Imperfect as We Are
by SassySally
Summary: Harvey Specter hadn't always been a womanizer, and he hadn't always lived a life of one night stands. But, simply put, Bess Covington was that honest, that pure, that true. No woman, before or since, has ever come close to her. Harvey/OC
1. Prologue

This story was largely inspired by watching Harvey tear Louis a new one in the most recent episode (1x11). Clearly, he has a number of skeletons in his closet. But, after reading an interview where the staff of the show promised that there would be a woman from Harvey's past, I wanted to play around with the idea of who that might be and how she might re-appear.

* * *

><p>Donna was thirty minutes early to work, dressed impeccably and carrying two piping hot lattes in hand. Had it not been February 27th, she was certain that Harvey would have killed her for having them make him a <em>breve<em> latte—he was always such a drama queen about the extra calories, even though he secretly loved it. Had it not been February 27th, she would not have cancelled all of his meetings and every court appearance he was supposed to make. Had it not been February 27th, she would not have called Mike that morning to threaten him within an inch of his life if he so much as breathed too loudly today or, for that matter, wore another God forsaken skinny tie.

But, much as she dreaded the day, February 27th it was, and no amount of arguing with God—or Satan for that matter—was going to change anything.

Much as she hated it, all she could do was hand Harvey his latte when he walked in fifteen minutes later and assure Louis—who had come by to ask why in hell Harvey was listening to _La Bohème_ loudly enough that it was audible outside his office—that she was far stronger that she looked and that she would be perfectly happy to body check him if his hand came within a foot of the handle to Harvey's office door.

Simply put, February 27th sucked.

After nine years of this ritual, Donna knew better than to disturb Harvey until Act I had finished. So she waited until she heard the last notes of _O soave fanciulla _before silently walking into his office, lifting the needle from the record, and seating herself opposite him in one of the black armchairs. She had always considered herself to be Harvey's big sister. Protective to a fault, Donna hated to see him in this much pain, even when she knew quite well that it was his own doing.

Yep, February 27th sucked royally. This was the day when Harvey Specter knew full and well the price he had paid to be _the _Harvey Specter. This was the day when no leggy, pretty blonde could comfort him and no fast car could calm his spinning mind. She had never understood why he insisted on coming into the office on this of all days, but it was better than burying himself in a bottle of scotch the way he did three years ago when the 27th fell on a Saturday, so Donna didn't mind. At least in the office, she could keep an eye on him.

They sat there in companionable silence for a solid ten minutes, Donna waiting for him to say something, _anything_. To passersby, it looked like any normal exchange between Donna and Harvey. Their posture was the same, expressions unreadable as always, but this exchange was anything but normal.

"It's a new recording," he said, intonation flat, but finally breaking the silence.

"Did she finally—" Donna questioned before being cut off with a curt nod.

"It was released in Japan. Live recording from the Met tour last year. Had it shipped here by a friend, then converted to vinyl."

"And?" she asked, cocking her head slightly before taking a sip of her latte.

"What do you think?" he asked, laughing slightly, though with no humor in the sound. Then he made a gesture that scared Donna. Harvey Specter, never one to have so much as a hair out of place, literally ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it and mussing it to hell. And worse than anything, he didn't seem to care.

"It's her," he continued, shrugging as though there was nothing more to say. "She's perfect." He took a long draw from his latte before placing his legs on the low table between them, ankles crossed. "She did Puccini proud." He looked away then, taking in the New York skyline on the cold, snowy day. The white powder was falling lightly, enough that it would stick by the evening, but soft enough that it still had a romantic, fairy-tale quality to it.

Donna was never one for pity, and Harvey would never accept it, but she couldn't keep the words from leaving her mouth. "Is there anything I can do?"

His head spun rather swiftly, too fast in fact, and his eyes passed Donna altogether and instead landed on the petite brunette in the bright red coat and matching pumps standing outside his office. Her back was turned and she held a wide brimmed red hat and a large red bag in her crème gloved hands. Yes, her back may have been turned, but the electricity that raced up his spine could mean only one thing.

Donna quickly noticed how pale Harvey had gone and inclined her head in the same direction.

"Yeah, you can, Donna. Send Bess in."

* * *

><p>Author's Note: For any of you who are unfamiliar with <em>La bohème<em>, go google it, _now._ And no, this will not be Rent, and nothing in this story will be based on said opera. R/R


	2. Chapter One

Author's Note: Hope the prologue gave ya'll enough to keep you interested. In this chapter, we get our first glimpse of the girl herself, Elisabeth Covington. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Elisabeth Covington had spent twenty minutes standing outside the offices of Pearson Hardman before she could bring herself to walk in the door. In occurred to her that patent leather Manolo Blahnik Mary-Jane pumps were not made for standing in the snow. She was also certain that breathing in all the cold air was not good for her, especially given that she was singing that evening, but it was nothing a cup of tea or two wouldn't fix. There were a thousand different reasons why she could have continued standing like that, in the middle of the powdery falling snow, for hours, and she may well have done so if a rather flustered looking kid on a bike hadn't shown up, stared at her like she was crazy, then asked if she was Bess Covington . It took a moment for his question to register.<p>

No one had called her Bess in six years. No one called her Bess anymore, save Harvey.

"Excuse me?" she said, rather taken aback and confused as to why someone she had never seen before was calling her by that name.

The kid picked up on her confusion and held out his hand to shake her own. "Oh, sorry, that was really weird of me. Mike Ross," he continued, placing his hand in hers. "I'm Harvey's associate. I saw a picture of you in his desk drawer one time. I'm good with faces," he said, shrugging. She was about to formally introduce herself when he asked, "I assume you're here to see Harvey. Would you like me to show you up?"

And that was how, five minutes later, Elisabeth Covington found herself standing in front of Donna's desk, waiting for someone to notice her.

The truth of the matter was that everyone at Pearson Hardman had noticed her. Harvey had a reputation as a womanizer for sure, but a beautiful woman like her showing up unannounced and being taken straight to Harvey's office was still out of the ordinary. The fact that she was dressed like something out of _Mad Men_ and that she still had a little bit of snow on the shoulders of her coat didn't hurt, either. Curvy, yet petite, she had the sort of figure that was popular in the 50's but had never really gone out of style. She looked like something out of a dream, one of those people who always seemed like they were from another time and just slightly too perfect to be real.

Not a hair on her head was out of place, and she stood there radiating approachability and sweetness. If one had asked the junior associates—all of whom looked up and stared as she passed through the bullpen that housed them on the way to Harvey's office—who she reminded them of, every last one of them would have named the girl they had loved from high school, the one who was on a pedestal just slightly out of reach. When Louis saw her, he thought instantly of every one of the opera heroines he had ever loved, the sweet ones whose hearts were broken or whose innocence was lost: Susannah, Tatiana, Mimi. For Matt, the mail boy, she was his big sister, the one who sang him to sleep every night when he was a kid and always smelled vaguely of chocolate chip cookies, as though the smell had been baked into her skin.

This was the reason why audiences fell in love with her night after night, why grown men and teenage boys alike wept when she sang, why the men of Pearson Hardman wanted to fall to their knees in front of her upon first glance, and why—after ten years—Harvey Specter was still in love with her and always would be.

This was the reason why Harvey's breath caught in his throat when she turned around, her eyes meeting his just before Donna greeted her.

Simply put, Bess was that good, that honest, that pure, that true. And she was that way without even trying.

After clearing everyone from the nearby vicinity with one simple glare and a "get lost," Donna couldn't stop herself from hugging Bess. Never mind that her coat was damp and that Harvey would always be heartbroken over her. Anyone who could bake a chocolate cake like Bess would always be welcome in Donna's world. If she was honest with herself, Donna would admit that one of the reasons she most missed Bess was end of the week dinners with her and Harvey, the ones that lasted till three in the morning without a single pause in the conversation, the ones where she laughed so much that her abs were sore the next morning. In what had come to be known between Donna and Harvey as "that summer," they had all been as close a thing to a family as any of them had been able to name in ages.

Donna breathed deep while hugging the small girl before her—she would always think of her as the eighteen-year-old girl she was when they had met—and pulled back slowly, taking in the sight before her. Bess looked at her and tilted her head slightly toward Harvey's office.

"He's okay," she said, answering the silent question Bess had lobbed at her. "He's been listening to your _Bohème_ recording from Japan and drinking way too much coffee."

Bess nodded and suddenly looked ashamed. "I'm singing my first _Bohème_ at the Met tonight," she said simply. It took a moment for it to register for Donna, then her eyes widened and she nodded. "It was a last minute thing. I found out two days ago. That's why I'm here." She looked Donna over, trying to gauge her reaction. As usual, she had no idea what to think.

"He promised, Donna. He was twenty-five, and we were kids, but when I asked who would be there to watch me when it all finally happened, he said he would without a moment's pause, and I just need tonight to go the way I always pictured it in my head." Her voice was quiet and small, the way a child's sounds when they admit to breaking something. "I know I have no right to ask him, especially not today, but I need him there."

Donna nodded, understanding, and hugged Bess close once more. "He'll listen. He always listens to you," she said.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: RR! Up next, Harvey and Bess actually interact! Yay for tension and awkwardness!


	3. Chapter Two

Bess sipped her tea quietly, holding the mug with both hands. It had taken Harvey about ten seconds to figure out that she had been waiting in the snow for at least fifteen minutes, and he quickly sent Donna out to get Bess a pot of tea—decaf, of course—with "more cream and sugar than should be legal."

He took her coat while they were waiting, hanging it with care on the rack by the door. She set her hat, gloves and bag on the conference table, silently noticing the record on the player.

They had stood there in his office like that, trying not to look at one another, Bess taking in her surroundings and trying to make herself inconspicuous until Harvey finally decided it was ridiculous for them to act this uncomfortable. There was a time when being with Bess was as easy as breathing, easier even. So, having been assured by Donna that no one would be walking by the office at any point, lest they desire to have her gauge their eyes out with a dull spoon, Harvey let himself go soft, if just for a few minutes.

He walked out from behind his desk, looked across the room to the girl in the bright red dress, smiled and held out his hand. "Come here, kid," was all he said.

And that was all it took for Bess. She was across the room in seconds flat, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle, head buried in his chest. She breathed deeply when his arms encircled her, and he rested his chin on her head, just like always. They fit together, simple.

They stood there, eyes closed, breathing each other in until Donna returned, silently setting the tea on the table before she left again.

"Come on, kid" he said gently, pulling away and leading her to one of the black chairs. "Let's get you warmed up."

And now, there they sat, Bess feeling considerably warmer, though whether it was from the tea or Harvey's closeness she couldn't be sure. It was Harvey who finally broke their silence.

"I assume Donna let slip that I got a hold of your recording of _Bohème_?" He cocked his head slightly and smirked.

She smiled and nodded, setting her tea down in front of her. "That she did. I actually haven't heard it yet. Decent?"

"Perfect," he offered.

"You always say that," she countered, though the smile on her face was palpable in her tone. Harvey was and had always been her biggest fan, ever since she was five.

"Why are you here Bess?" he finally asked. That question was the elephant in the room, to be sure, so he might as well ask it now. His tone was gentle, but she managed to take it as a sign of rejection, a sign that this _had_ been a bad idea after all. He clarified quickly.  
>"Bess, how could I not be happy to see you? I'm just a bit shocked that you're here, that's all."<p>

She finally let out her breath and nodded, glad that she hadn't gotten up and turned heel the minute he asked that question.

_Don't think_, she thought. _Just say what you came to say. _Seconds later, her eyes tilted to the floor, the words were tumbling out of her mouth. "It's a last minute thing but I'm singing my first _Bohème_ at the Met tonight and I have the box on stage left all reserved and you're still my person and I hate to ask but—"

"I'll be there," he said, cutting her off.

She perked up instantly, eyes finally leaving the floor and meeting his warm, brown ones. "I—just—thanks, Harvey." And then she smiled, the same smile that had made him weak in the knees since she was sixteen.

She stood, smiling and smoothing her dress. "I left all the details and the tickets with Donna, and you're on the list to come back stage. My assistant will find you after the show if you want her to."

"I'd like that," he countered, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Dinner?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't have a batch of Boeuf Bourguignon in the oven and a sour cream fudge cake waiting to be frosted back home, just in case, of course. My place or yours?"

It took everything in him not smirk. It was so like Bess to have dinner all planned out and taken care of, just in case. She was Mary fucking Poppins. Practically perfect in every way.

"You still have the Steinway, right?"

"Is that even a question?"

"Yours then."

"You bring the wine."

"Done."

They smiled then, everything settled in a rapid-fire conversation that took place in less than thirty seconds. Harvey moved first, helping Bess into her coat before she gathered up her belongings and placed her wide-brimmed hat atop her head. She was a vision. He stood in front of her and gently laid his hand on her cheek, holding it there for a short moment before she turned her head into his hand and laid a gentle kiss on his palm. It was a left over habit, one from "that summer," and they both sighed internally at how wonderful the old gesture felt. She turned then—somewhat wistful, but satisfied—and headed for the door. Here crème gloved hand was inches from the door when he stopped her.

"Bess—"

"Harvey?" she countered, turning with an expectant look on her face.

His face hardened, and she knew exactly why. "Do you know that today—"

"She would have been nine years old…if the due date was right." It was a simple statement of fact, but her voice had an edge to it, the slightest hint of tears.

"I thought you didn't remember," he said.

She sighed and turned to face him full on, both hands clutching the handle of her bag. "I always imagined her as a girl. You would have been so adorable with a daughter, and you would have spoiled her completely. And she was going to have your eyes, and your smile. And our nanny was going to speak fluent French, and we would speak German with her, and she was going to grow up a trilingual snob. We were going to spend every summer in Paris, and the law firm could just go to hell if they tried to get in the way of that."

She paused for a moment, drawing breath and failing, finally, to keep the tears in her eyes from spilling over. "And every single time she said your name, or you picked her up or did anything at all with her, I would get weak in the knees and fall in love with you all over again." She shrugged and smiled meekly, not caring that she was crying. "At least, that's how I always pictured it."

He sat there, stunned that her vision of their lives had so closely resembled his own. "I wanted her to look just like you," was all he could find the words to say.

"See you tonight, Harvey." And with that, she turned on her heels and went, knowing full well that Harvey needed a moment to collect himself, even if he would have never shown how shaken he was in front of her.

Outside the office, she dabbed gently at her eyes, tossed a soft "thanks" at Donna and headed out into the fairy-tale winter weather, leaving behind a man who was as in love with her as ever and entirely unsure what to do about that.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: For anyone who has not gotten it yet, Bess is an opera singer working primarily at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, though she will likely end up traveling to Europe to sing at some point during this story. I really liked the idea of having a woman who was soft and feminine, but just as powerful as Harvey in her own right. So, I found it fitting to pick a woman whose career would allow her to be worshiped by several thousand people every time she opened her mouth. It just seems right. RR.

Up soon: An explanation into how Bess and Harvey know each other and what is in their past.


	4. Chapter Three

Ten hours, a brand new Valentino gown for Donna—she deserved it after what she had put up with—and a new D&G tux for Mike—whose hopeless under-dressing had finally driven him to the edge—Harvey, his faithful secretary and his all too annoying associate were safely seated in a limo, headed to the opera.

"Let's go over this again," Mike asked, somewhat incredulous, "we're here why?" he asked, indicating Donna and himself. "And what the hell is the plan? And since when do you like the opera? I thought you told Louis you would sooner listen to drowning cats for three hours than see Nixon in China."

"Nixon in China is bizarre, not opera," Harvey quipped, taking a swig from the champagne he had been drinking fairly steadily since an hour or so before. "Puccini is a whole separate story."

"So this has nothing to do with Bess at—"

"Elisabeth," Harvey and Donna both said, harsh and swift.

"Woah! Okay," Mike shouted, trying to move as far away from his boss and the fiery redhead as the limo would afford.

Donna turned her head and locked eyes with the kid in front of her. "He calls her Bess, we call her Elisabeth. Don't question it. And shut up if you don't want to share Mimi's fate," Donna snapped. Mike nodded slowly before she continued. "We're here because Harvey has a box to himself, and he was nice enough to ask us to come with him. If you wish you were somewhere else, just shut up because you'll be getting free booze out of the deal, not to mention that tux."

Donna reached into her clutch, pulled out a small compact and went about reapplying her lipstick as she continued. "As for the plan, we are all going to have a lovely time at the opera watching people fall in love and die. At intermission we will all down several glasses of champagne, and I will find someone to go home with because it has been far too long in my world as I am basically married to the judicial system. We will then watch the third and fourth acts, cry at the appropriate spots—because if you don't cry during a Puccini opera then you have no soul—and cheer quite loudly when Elisabeth has her curtain call." Mike nodded, carefully noting all of this, but Donna was far from finished.

"After the curtain call is done, you and I will leave, me to the house of some yet to be determined socialite, and you to sleep alone with your cat."

"But I don't have a—"

"It's still funny as hell, Michael," the redhead continued. "Harvey on the other hand, will do whatever he sees fit, which reminds me…" Her hands dug inside the oversized clutch in her lap until she produced a set of keys which she handed to her boss.

"Are these the—"

"Keys to the Tesla, yes. I had it parked with the valet and paid through two, just in case," she said with a smile. "And there's no need to tell me you love me. I already know quite well."

Had Mike not been looking down and trying to avoid Donna's laser beam death gaze, he might have missed it when Harvey gently took Donna's hand in his own and squeezed it. His expression remained neutral, and he continued to stare at the lights outside the window, but it was clear to Mike that something had just passed between the two immovable forces beside him.

Harvey locked eyes with Donna and nodded, a small gesture of thanks, just as the car came to a stop at Lincoln Center. Ever the gentleman, he was the first person out of the car, helping Donna to step out and offering her his arm. Then, he took a deep breath in the chilled air and walked forward.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey folks! Well, it seems that according to the hit count people are at least reading the story. But I'd love to know what you think! Reviews are my crack, and they always motivate me to post faster. So leave me a note guys! :)

Up next: Flash back scene! It occurred to me that this story is impossible to tell entirely in present day, so we'll be getting a look at Bess and Harvey from ten years earlier.


	5. Chapter Four

A/N:In case you haven't noticed, I've set this up so there is about a seven year age gap between Harvey and Bess. I don't really see any problem with that, even when she is eighteen, especially for reasons that will be revealed later on. However, if you do, you might want to stop reading now as the story will now contain numerous flashbacks showing how Bess and Harvey were back when they were "kids."

* * *

><p><em>February 21<em>_st__, 2002_

This bloody fucking weather,_ he thought to himself as he rode the thirty some odd stories to the apartment that, at least for the foreseeable future, he called home. It was winter in New York City, and while one would have thought that two years of Massachusetts winters would have hardened him to the weather, Harvey was still perfectly happy to bitch when it got down below twenty degrees, even if he did look rather dashing in an overcoat, as several of the paralegals at the DA's office pointed out. _

_During the elevator ride, Harvey pondered his existence. Six weeks into his new job as ADA, Harvey Specter was already making a name for himself. He had graduated fifth in his class at Harvard Law where he charmed professors and pretty law students alike. He had managed to win every mock trial he took part in and almost never spent a moment in the library, unless it was in the company of Scotty or another equally beautiful woman. He was a pit bull and on track to be a junior partner at Pearson Hardman by twenty-eight if he played his cards right. On top of all of this, he was great looking and could have taken home any one of the paralegals at the office, and almost any other woman he set his sights on. _

_...and yet, here he was. If anyone had told Harvey a year ago that he would be this happy to be coming home to dinner on the table at seven and a girl who loved him, he would have kicked them for being such an idiot. But, here he was, improbable as it seemed. _

_The elevator doors opened revealing a sleek, elegant foyer. He walked forward, turning his key in the lock and opening the door. _

_He was instantly hit by the wafting scent of something delicious. He had no idea what, but everything Bess put her hands on ended up tasting like nirvana, so he never worried about what she was planning on making. There was something else in the air, too, a faintly chemical smell. He wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from, but he was fairly sure that if he followed the music, he would find out. Blasting through the air was Mimi's first act aria from _La Bohème_, and if he had to take a guess, he would be fairly sure that it had been on repeat all day. She hated the winter as much as he did, and she always found comfort in Mimi's yearning for spring. _Just like you, Bess,_ he thought. _

_He set his things down on the table in the entry way, shed his suit jacket and tie and marched straight toward the source of the music, taking him past the kitchen, the bedroom he now shared with Bess, and up to the door of her older brother Aidan's former room, the source of the music. He gently opened the door, not wishing to scare Bess. When he finally opened the double doors wide, he couldn't help but smirk, lounging against the door frame and taking in the sight before him. _

_The room was lit by a single, large lamp placed somewhat in the middle of the floor, giving the room a deep, golden glow, filled with hints of shadows everywhere. The walls, which had previously been a deep shade of green, were now a soothing lavender, the paint probably still a little damp. On the east wall of the room, then one that got that best sun in the afternoons, there was a quote, painted in Bess's scrawling cursive. It read: _

"_There came a moment in the middle of the song _

_when she suddenly felt every heartbeat in the room _

_& after that she never forgot she was part of something _

_much bigger."_

_And there, in the middle of the room, lying atop her beloved Steinway grand piano was his darling girl, head thrown over the side of the instrument, a glass of red wine in one hand, paint spattered all over her sweat pants and tank top, hair tied up in a bandana. Harvey was fairly sure he had never seen anything more beautiful. Finally, he moved, walking to the record player in the corner and lifting the needle, filling the room with silence. _

_He was just about to speak when finally he heard Bess's voice, smaller than usual. _

"_Do you think he would have liked it?" she asked softly. _

"_He would have loved it," he said without a moment's pause. "The music room you two always wanted." _

_She sat up then, still atop the piano, though facing toward the window and the night sky which was now dark and black. She took a sip from her wine glass and looked around her, taking in the spoils of her day. _

"_It seemed so wrong for his room to just sit here all sad and empty any longer. I woke up this morning, and I was just sick of it. So I made dinner, and bought three gallons of paint, and here we are." _

_Harvey looked around the room and took in all Bess had accomplished in the twelve hours since he had left home. The dark wood built-in bookshelves on the east and west walls were now filled with score upon score, countless pieces of music that Bess and Aidan had loved. There were pictures and mementos as well. On the north wall, opposite the double doors hung the giant gilded mirror that had once occupied her parent's room. She had always coveted that mirror, and had long ago attempted to steal it from her parents, to no avail. But now, there was hardly anyone to stop her from doing as she pleased with it. _

_True to form, the Steinway was set dead in the center of the room, the keyboard facing the west where she was sure to get the best light. The room looked perfect. _

"_How the hell did you manage to move the mirror? Wasn't it in storage?" Aside from that little problem, Harvey happened to know that it weighed at least three hundred pounds._

"_I called the movers who had put it there in the first place and had them bring it over and hang it up." _

"_Looks good," he said simply. _

_She turned and looked at him, pondering the man in front of her. It certainly was her good fortune that, after being in love with him since she was five, her big brother's best friend—improbable though it was—loved her too. She patted the top of the piano, indicating that she wanted Harvey to join her. _

"_Isn't sitting on it bad for it?" he asked, though he could honestly give a damn. _

"_Oh please," she countered. "I already had to move it all over hell and high water. It's a long way from the living room to here, you know." She smirked—though something was off about it—then she held her free hand out to him. "Besides, the piano tuner is coming first thing tomorrow morning, so if ever there was a moment to lay on to top of the piano, this is it." _

_Harvey relented, moving across the room to take Bess's hand. He climbed atop the piano lid where he laid down beside her, head thrown back to match. _

_He sat there for several minutes, waiting for her to say something, but nothing came. Bess was clearly in a pensive mood, and Harvey had learned long ago that, like almost everyone, she wasn't good with silence. So, he stayed quiet, sure that she would talk whenever she became uncomfortable. _

"_I'm an orphan," she finally said. Someone who didn't know Bess like Harvey did would have jumped in to comfort her, but Harvey knew better. Despite her soft appearance, Bess was strong, and she certainly wasn't finished talking. _

"_I'm an orphan, parents dead in a car crash, and they were both only children so no aunts or uncles for Bess, and my brother died of cancer, and both sets of grandparents before I was born, and I don't have anyone." _

_She let out a groan and pulled herself up, sitting cross-legged atop the piano and downing the rest of her wine in two large gulps. Harvey reached up and took the glass from her hand, but he stayed silent, wanting her to keep going. _

"_And I woke up this morning, and I walked in here after you left, and I was just sick of this damn room with Aidan all over the fucking walls and everything. It was so fucking depressing. And I tried to go for a run, but it is cold as hell out there and Central Park just looks dead, and the whole city looks dead, and I couldn't stand it anymore." _

"_And even listening to _Bohème_ couldn't fix it!" She laughed ruefully, a sound full of pain and no humor at all. "I thought it would make me feel warm, think of spring. Do you know what it did instead?" Then she did what she always did when she was feeling sad, pulled her knees tight to her chest and hugged them with her arms, resting her chin atop her knees._

"_All I could do was think about how I don't have anyone. And all my life, I've dreamed about singing at the Met and getting to sing _Bohème_ there. And in my perfect little fantasy, I always look up to stage left during the aria, and Aidan and mom and dad are sitting in the first tier box, right there, smiling and crying and being so damn proud that I'm sure their faces hurt. But they're all dead, and I have no one." _

_And now Harvey did want to jump in to comfort her, but he held back, if just for a moment. In the two months since her parents had died, Bess hadn't gone off the deep end like with Aidan, but she barely acted like anything was wrong. Granted, she broke down before and after the funeral, but she had never really acknowledged how drastically her life had changed. Much as he hated to admit it, the fact that money would never be an issue for Bess probably made it easier, but she had never cared about her family fortune, and it certainly couldn't buy her new parents. He knew from personal experience how important it was to at least let someone know that you knew, that you were sure your life would never be the same. _

"_I'll be there," he finally said. It was simple, a statement of fact. _

_Bess raised her head and threw a glance back at the man lying beside her. And there was Harvey, hands behind his head, a sincere, adoring look on his face. _

"_I'll be there."_

_It sank in the second time he said it, and with a small smile lighting her face, Bess jerked her head slightly, indicating that she wanted Harvey to sit up with her. He did just as she wanted, setting her abandoned wine glass behind him and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She, in turn, rested her head on his shoulder. _

"_Thanks," she muttered, knowing he meant ever word. _

"_Look kid," he said, gentle and reassuring, "I'm not your mom or dad, and I'm certainly not Aidan, and I never will be, but I love you, and I'll be there." _

_And there it was. Those three words. They had been implied for ages. Hell, the two of them were busy playing a grown up version of house, complete with a shared bed, dinner every night, and her attending official work functions with him. But neither one of them had ever said it outright. They had entered into an unofficial competition several weeks ago when it became painfully obvious that they were madly in love and wanted nothing more than to tell each other exactly that. But, ever the competitive spirits that they were, they both refused to say it, sure that the other would break first. _

_Bess smiled then, truly and ear to ear. She wanted so very much to tell Harvey that she felt the exact same way, but what fun would that be? _

"_You said it first, you know." She looked up at him then, smiling sweetly and batting her eyelashes at him, all her previous angst forgotten. "I win," she bragged with a wink. _

_Harvey laughed, deep and full, and he slid off the piano lid, landing on the floor in front of Bess. "Fine, you win," he said, "but seriously? Are you going to leave me hanging like that? Cold, Bess. Very cold." _

"_You love me….."she countered in a sing-song voice. As annoying as her gloating was—hell as annoying as anyone's gloating was—Harvey couldn't be happier to see that smile on Bess's face. It was genuine and heartfelt, and it had been quite a while since he had last seen that. _

"_Come on, Bess," he said, once more. She shook her head, but Harvey wasn't one to lose. Six weeks and close to a thousand trials under his belt, and he had yet to lose one. Poor Bess didn't stand a chance. _

_He moved forward, standing between her legs where they hung over the piano, forcing them ever so slightly wider. Much as she tried, her barely audible gasp wasn't lost on him. His hand went to her cheek, his thumb rubbing soothing lines just along the bones there. "We both know what you want to say Bess," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, and speaking into her ear. "Just go ahead and say it, okay?" _

_She drew a shaky breath just before he kissed her. It was soft, gentle, the sort of kiss that says "Come back to my room and there's far more where that came from." She knew that kiss too well; it was exactly the sort he gave her every night after dinner. Damn him. _

_He pulled away slowly, drawing the words from her lips. "I'm so in love with you, Harvey," she sighed, just as a high pitched beeping noise came from the kitchen. _

"_That's my girl," he said, triumphant at last. "No why don't you go grab whatever it is that's in the oven. You'll be pissed if it burns." He winked there, making her almost regret the words she just said. _

"_Fine," she groaned, huffing and sliding gracefully off the piano lid. "You grab the wine from the cellar. Get a red. Preferably an older vintage." She moved to walk away before he called after her. _

"_Are you sure you want wine? Haven't you already been drinking?" _

"_I have, but not much. Look Harvey, I'm not gonna go off the deep end and force you stage a rock climbing boot camp intervention again, okay? Promise."_

_Harvey nodded slowly, chuckling just a bit at the memory of that ridiculous day. But Bess had been dealing better as of late. At least she was allowing herself to feel things now._

_She smiled sweetly, and held his gaze, silently thanking him for his concern and for everything he had done for her in the past year. But she continued before the mood got to heavy or, God forbid, sappy. _

"_Besides, when you're eighteen, you've graduated from school a year early, been accepted to Juilliard on a full ride, and are now in possession of your parent's nine figure fortune, you have to occupy your time somehow." She shrugged and smirked at him before walking out of the room. "Besides," she called before she was entirely out of earshot, "you can't expect me to make Boeuf Bourguignon without having some wine for myself, can you?" _

_She'd made his favorite dinner, damn her. Knowing that, he couldn't keep the words from spilling out of his mouth. "Did I mention that I love you?" he called after her. _

_His question was met with a chorus of giggles like twinkling little bells. Damn her. _

* * *

><p><em>AN: As I have said before, reviews are my crack...or red wine, if I were Bess. I have several chapters ready to go, so review my friends, and I will post them quickly!_

_Up next: Donna and Mike cry their way through the opera and Harvey and Bess have dinner. Also to come, a very long chapter detailing the events of the _rock climbing boot camp intervention_. Lots of laughs there, folks.  
><em>


	6. Chapter Five

A/N: Hey all! I'm posting three new chapters. As promised, this is the scene where in everyone attends the opera. I had intended for it to be longer, but the muse sort of moved me in another direction. So, we'll get to Harvey and Bess having dinner the next time I post something present day. However, the two chapters following this are of the rock climbing incident. So, hopefully no one will be too disappointed. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Harvey was prepared for Donna to cry during the opera. Several of the singers on the Met's roster were Pearson Hardman clients. Hell, Harvey had personally handled several of their contract negotiations. Needless to say, he and Donna had been to several performances, opening galas, fundraisers and the like. Harvey was grateful that Donna was always willing to come—otherwise he would be left talking to Louis, who always had something negative to say about the performance—and Donna was grateful to be asked. It gave her an excuse to dress up, and she was a sucker for tragic love stories. Inevitably, Donna ended up sobbing her eyes out every time they went to the opera. Call it old fashioned, but Harvey had taken to stuffing a handkerchief in the pocket of his jacket for the moment when Donna's eyes started getting drippy.<p>

Today, however, he knew she would be even more of a wreck than usual. She had been with he and Bess through the worst of it, and she held that girl very close to her heart. So, when the three of them seated themselves in the box, Harvey far to the right of Mike and Donna, he pulled out the handkerchief, handed it to Donna and said, "For when the flood gates open." She smiled then and started to tear up, and Harvey knew instantly that he was in for a long night. What he didn't expect however was to hear Mike sniffling softly beside him in the middle of Bess's first aria.

Harvey was entirely enthralled from the moment she stepped onstage, so much so that even with Ross beside him turning into a whimpering child, he could not be distracted. Bess looked so effortlessly at home, so genuinely happy, sweet, innocent, good true. All the things that Mimi was supposed to be, and everything she was as well. When she had sung her last note, the house broke into applause, cheers ringing throughout the high ceilings. Harvey would have clapped if her were able; instead, he simply sat there, somewhat stunned. Distantly, he wondered how the hell he had been lucky enough to be one of the few people who had heard Bess sing her entire life. At this point, he was really the only person in her world who could claim he had been there since the beginning.

The other thought that ran through his mind throughout the night, especially after several glasses of champagne, was how very much he wanted to kiss her again. He remembered the last time they kissed so vividly. It had been after her undergrad senior recital at Juilliard. He hadn't seen her in three and a half years, but when the invitation showed up at his office—placed on his desk by Donna no doubt—and how could he say no. He had stayed after the recital finished, waiting until after she had been greeted by everyone else who had come, only to walk backstage, kissed her, told her loved her, and left. It was the last time they had spoken until that morning.

He remembered the feeling that possessed him now as the same on he had after her recital. It was almost reverent, somewhat predatory, too. In essence, he was sure there was something psychological about it. After all, who wouldn't want to kiss the lips that held such a sound?

The performance was over far too quickly in Harvey's opinion, though the curtain calls had gone on for fifteen minutes with Bess being called out for ten bows. She looked utterly flustered by the end of it, and she couldn't stop herself from running a hand through her mussed up hair and laughing. If anything he was sure it only made the audience love her more.

In the end, Donna had indeed found a wealthy and exceedingly attractive businessman of some sort or another with whom to do undoubtedly tawdry things. And Mike, shocking though it was, walked straight from the box, pulled out his cell and called Rachel, insisting that she come over to his apartment now because, "We may die. We could die anytime. One of us could get TB!" Harvey was fairly sure that Rachel knew TB was highly curable, but it seemed to work nonetheless, and both his faithful companions left happy.

And so, Harvey waited in the lobby, sipping a glass of champagne until a very no-nonsense woman in her mid-forties approached him and asked if he was Harvey Specter. Upon confirmation that he was she informed him that: "Miss Covington wishes to leave as discretely as possible. She requests that you wait for her with your car on the east side of the house. She will be coming up the stairs from below the house. It's a quick escape route for the performers when they need to get away quickly." Harvey nodded, and was told that Bess should be there in about ten minutes.

He waited inside the Tesla in silence, just where Bess's assistant had indicated. It took longer than expected, and he was just about to call Bess when the girl herself came leaping over the passenger side door, and plopped into the passenger seat, a large duffle bag in hand. "Drive!" she yelled to him, though her tone was playful and light.

Harvey looked her over as she sat there in the passenger seat, giggling as though she were high, which—in a way—she must have been. Her hair was damp, and she had clearly come from a shower. Her face had very little makeup on, nothing beyond eyeliner and mascara, her standard look. She wore a large pair of sweat pants with boots pulled over them, a Harvard sweatshirt that he was sure had belonged to him at one point in time, and a large gray scarf. And she looked as happy as he had ever seen her. Soon he found himself laughing along with her, and the pair said not a word to one another for the entire drive.


	7. Chapter Six

_September 8__th__, 2001_

_Harvey remembered his last couple weeks with his best friend quite vividly. When it got to the point where it was obvious that there was nothing more that doctors or money could do for Aidan, the Covington's had chosen to move him back home where those who loved him could be close to him. Harvey had raced to finish his final exams at Harvard and then took a train straight back to the city where Bess had met him at Central Station. It wasn't uncommon for Harvey to take up residence in the Covington house during breaks and the like—so much so that Joan, Aidan's mother, had decorated the guest room to suit Harvey, meaning very limited colors. _

_Aidan had a few good days. Bess and Harvey dragged him to a Yankee game on one, and they all took great pleasure in getting drunk—even though Bess was clearly underage—and watching the team beat the daylights out of the Red Sox. For another, Bess convinced Aidan to give an impromptu recital for their parents and Harvey, right in the middle of the living room. There was nothing formal about it at all. Bess had simply looked at Aidan, her piano prodigy brother who was the only accompanist she had ever known, and said "let's make all the music we've ever wanted to make together while we have the time, okay?" And true to form, no one could deny Bess, so Aidan didn't even try. _

_Harvey remembered it lasting all day. They performed countless arias, songs that Aidan had written for Bess, and things that they had never even thought to perform, just for the love of the music and of each other. If he was honest with himself, that was the day when he fell in love with Bess. _

_She was sixteen and would be singing with a select youth orchestra at Carnegie Hall in a few months. She and Aidan had spent close to a year working on the piece together, and Harvey had heard bits here and there over breaks, and now it appeared that Aidan wouldn't be around to hear it. So at the end of the day, when she was almost entirely sung out, Aidan asked Bess for one more thing. "Sing Knoxville," he said. _

_Harvey remembered the look on Bess's face as vividly as he remembered anything from that summer. Her eyes teared up almost instantly. Her mouth opened, likely to protest, but then she stopped, closed her mouth, rolled her shoulders back and nodded, slowly and with great understanding. They both knew they were never going to make music together after this. And if ever there was a piece that expressed their love for one another, a piece that should bring their musical careers together to a close, this one was it. They had put their sweat and tears and all their love for one another into it. It was the least she could do. _

_She cried from the start of the piece all the way to the end some fourteen minutes later, and yet her voice was clear and brave. Harvey couldn't imagine the degree of strength it took. In essence, Bess was saying goodbye to her beloved brother. And when she had finished, she dried her eyes, looked to her brother and said simply, "You know." _

"_I know," he replied. It was an odd habit between the siblings. In all the time Harvey had known them, since Bess was five, they had never said "I love you," to each other. Instead they simply said "you know." When Harvey had asked Aidan what the hell that was about, he replied, "It just isn't necessary to say it outright. She knows; I know. We know, without question." And in that moment, Harvey Specter knew, too. _

_So it was with great trepidation that Harvey did as his best friend had asked him shortly before he died. He was now the closest thing Bess had to a brother though he would never think of her that way, but he was someone to look after her in a way that her parents couldn't. They were loving people and she adored them, but in a way, she and Aidan had raised each other. And the last thing Aidan had asked Harvey was to look after Bess once he was gone, and from what his spies had told him, she needed a little looking after. _

_Harvey had spoken with several of his old friends from high school, not to mention his younger brother, and rumor had it that Bess was getting around. She had been seen at any number of parties over the summer, and supposedly, she had amassed quite the little black book. Needless to say, he was more than a bit worried. Bess had finished high school in three years, so this was technically her "lag year" in which she would be auditioning for music schools—though her admission to Juilliard was all but assured—and in which she clearly had far too much time on her hands. _

_So, Harvey got up early that morning, took a train down from Mass and took a cab straight over to the Covington condo. He knew her parents were out of the town that weekend. They said as much when he called to tell them that he was staging this intervention, so he simply let himself in with the key he had possessed since he was thirteen. After calling her name throughout the condo several times, to no avail, Harvey finally found Bess on the terrace. _

_She was bopping her head along to whatever music she was listening to. Her ear buds were plugged into something that Apple was supposed to release later that year, a gift from Steve Jobs for her birthday. Apparently having a high ranking exec for a father had its perks. Whatever she was listening to, it must have been loud because she entirely oblivious to his approach. _

_Harvey took in the sight before him. She was lounging on one of the couches that were spread throughout the terrace. Bess lay there in a bikini, sunning herself like a cat. She was far too skinny for his liking, though not yet entirely unhealthy. Her hair was wavy and wild, and a pair of oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes from the blinding early morning sun. In her right hand, she held what was clearly a Bloody Mary. _Hair of the dog,_ he thought. _Great.

_He almost always opted for kid gloves with Bess, but clearly this wasn't the time for it. Instead, he marched straight over to her, grabbed her glass and flung the contents over the side of the balcony before turning back to face a rather startled girl. _

_Bess sat bolt upright, yanking her headphones and sunglasses off in one fell swoop. _

"_What the fuck, Harvey?" she yelled, clearly in a rage. The circles beneath her eyes looked like bruises, and her cheek bones were far too present on her face. _

"_Late night?" he asked, putting on his lawyer voice. It was enough to make just about anyone shake in their proverbial boots, but Bess was tougher than that. _

"_Fuck you," she shot back. He was a little shocked as Bess literally never spoke this way, but she was obviously worse off than he had thought. "That was a perfectly good drink, dammit." _

_He marched up to her, took her jaw in his hand, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away, forcing him to look him in the eye. _

"_Vodka?" he asked, though they both knew the answer. _

"_I've taken to washing my hair with it. It removes impurities, didn't you know?" Her tone was sugary sweet with that slight cutting edge underneath. _

"_Bullshit, Bess," he said through his teeth. Harvey had had enough. He released Bess's face only long enough to grab her wrist and yank her to her feet. _

"_What the fuck are you doing?" she yelled as he dragged her into the house. _

_He didn't stop or even look back at the thrashing girl behind him until they got to her room. Once there, he opened the door and flung her rather unceremoniously on her bed. "Put on some god damn clothes. We're leaving in five." He went to leave, but Bess was right behind him, her hand on the door. _

"_Why on earth should I do anything you're telling me? You're acting like a crazy person!" she yelled back. "And why the hell are you even here?" _

"_Because I owe him!" Harvey's fury was palpable now, and it was enough to make Bess stumble backwards, tripping over a stray pair of shoes and falling to the floor. She sat there, looking small and terrified, but Harvey continued his rant. "I promised Aidan that I would look after you, and clearly you're not capable of taking care of yourself, so we're gonna have a little come to Jesus moment here, kid. Get dressed. We're going for a hike. Not an option." _

_She nodded her head once, looking every bit the deer in headlights. He slammed the door behind her and marched off to grab a phone, calling for the car. _

* * *

><p><em>Two and a half hours later, Harvey and Bess sat side by side in her father's Aston Martin, which Harvey was currently driving at least thirty miles above the speed limit. It was rare that he drove at all, much less a car of this caliber and on roads this empty. Upstate New York was such a delight. Bess, on the other hand, was not so amused, and she let out a huff when she saw the speedometer. <em>

"_And you're calling me reckless, Speed Racer? Hypocrisy suits you." She laughed then, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes again._

"_Cars like this are meant to be driven," he replied smoothly. "It would be criminal to drive the speed limit in this. Besides, today is about you and your problems, not my driving record." _

"_Well forgive me if I haven't taken to my room, mourned enough, or wore enough black. I'm sure Aidan wouldn't mind that I've been having some fun." _

_They were both speaking at a rapid fire pace, sentences nearly overlapping, both of them staring straight ahead. _

"_Well, Socialite Barbie, whatever helps you sleep at night. But from the contents of mommy and daddy's liquor cabinet, I would say it's less your belief in your dearly departed brother's wish for your happiness and more of the four horsemen and a high school football player…or four." _

"_Girls just wanna have fun, Harvey," she quipped back. _

"_If that's what you want to call it." _

_They were silent then, both of them seething, drawing strength from their anger. Moments later, they reached their destination. Harvey parked the car, got out and opened Bess's door for her. _

"_Come on, Barbie. We've got a ways to go. Start walking." _

* * *

><p>AN: The piece mentioned above is a setting of the text Knoxville: Summer of 1915 by Samuel Barber. By all means, give it a listen and look up the text. It's a really lovely portrayal of family life in the south and growing up as a small child with a family who loves you.

Go to the next chapter for part two and a VERY angry Bess._  
><em>


	8. Chapter Seven

_September 8__th__, 2001 (cont.)_

_After years of playing catch in the halls of the apartment building, Bess was fairly sure that her aim was good enough to strike Harvey square in the head with the rather large rock she had gripped in her fist. The boys had taught her how to throw a curve ball by the time she was six, and he was only about thirty feet away. It was nothing really. And besides, who the hell was he to show up from Mass, drop in on her door step, tell her about her life and then drag her to the middle of fucking nowhere upstate New York to hike for three hours until her legs fell off? _Self-righteous asshole, _she thought. She was deeply considering whether or not the rock in question would do significant enough damage to put an end to this social experiment when the very source of her torture yelled back to her. _

"_Keep up, Vodka Barbie. We're not slacking today." _

_And that was another thing. In the past three hours, Harvey had taken to calling her some form of Barbie every time he spoke to her. When she informed him that a) she wasn't blonde, and b) it wasn't funny, he promised to stop calling her Barbie when she stopped acting like a blonde bimbo. Were she her normal self, Bess would have admitted that __Negligée __Barbie had been a particular stroke of genius considering her "extracurricular activities" as of late. But she was far from willing to find any of Harvey's shenanigans funny. _

"_You know, I think there's some law against kidnapping children. Didn't they teach you about that in law school?" she quipped at him. _

"_Nice try, Paralegal Barbie, but you turned eighteen six days ago. Technically, you're an adult, even if you're acting like a needy, bitchy little toddler." He smirked then, positive that he was getting to her. A loud noise behind him confirmed it as Bess literally stamped her foot. _

"_Fuck you, Harvey Specter!" He laughed slightly and turned around to see Bess sitting on the ground. She was refusing to move. This was just too precious. _

"_What on earth are you doing?" he said, laughing the whole time, unable to control himself. In all his years of watching Bess grow up, this was by far the most absurd she had ever acted. _

"_I'm _not_ moving, not until we _turn around_ and _go home_."_

_He cocked an eyebrow at her and said simply, "Has it occurred to you, Spoiled Princess Barbie, that the fastest way back to the car might be to keep walking this way?" _

_She sat there, pondering what he had said for a second. It was over ninety degrees right now, she had literally sweat through her shirt, and for the first time in months, she would kill for some food. _

"_Harvey Specter, if you are fucking with me, so help me God—"_

"_Promise," he said. "Now come on, Carnivore Barbie. Let's get out of here so we can get some food." _

_He held out a hand to help Bess up from where she had unceremoniously plopped on the ground, but she was having none of it. Instead, she lifted herself up and started running full tilt up the hill in front of them. The path was covered in rocks, and it was seriously hazardous, but Bess could care less. All she wanted was to get off that mountain and home to a shower and a large bottle of wine. _

_Finally the trees thinned out and the sun came into view—along with a huge cliff face. Bess stopped her run then, gingerly inching forward until a huge basin came into view. From where she stood it was at least two hundred feet to the floor below, and, she noticed none too happily, the car. _

"_Oh fuck no…" she whispered. _

"_Yep," she heard from behind here. "Aidan and I used to come up here to clear our heads. The fastest way down is with one of these," he said, throwing some random thing at her. She held it up and examined it, recognition hitting her a moment later. A rock climbing harness. _

"_Oh FUCK no…" she repeated. "Harvey Specter, so help me God, I am going to—"_

"_What?" he countered, close to yelling, and again using his scary lawyer voice. "Yeah, you're terrified of heights; I know that. But I don't give a shit. In fact, it might be good for you to do something that scares you, like, oh, I don't know, _feeling something_, or _anything_ for that matter. So we can sit here all day if you want, but the only way you are leaving is down that cliff face. So buck up, Cowgirl Barbie." _

_For the second time that day, Bess sat down on the ground, refusing to move until Harvey yanked her to her feet. _

"_Put the damn harness on. Now." _

_She did exactly as he said, then she stood there shaking and terrified, unable to speak for fear of the ridiculous nonsense he was asking of her. Consciously she knew that it must be safe; Harvey and Aidan used to come here every weekend, and neither of them ended up dead, at least not from the rock climbing. But she was absolutely positive that she would die on the way down that cliff. It was simply ridiculous. _

_Now, the day that Aidan died, Bess took to her room and promptly had a panic attack. She knew rather well what they were, so when the all too familiar chest pains and shortness of breath came on, she managed to choke out the words, "Harvey, check my pulse." _

_He did just as she asked, noticing as well that her heart was racing. "Panic attack?" he asked, his voice still firm. He knew all too well what they looked like from his childhood with his mother. _

"_Yeah," she managed to choke out, holding herself tightly. _

"_Come here," he said, sitting on the ground behind her and pulling her so that she was sitting between his legs, her back against his chest. They sat like that for fifteen minutes, Harvey holding Bess, breathing slowly and calmly, speaking to her in deep, soothing tones until finally, her heart slowed and her breathing became even. She managed a muffled "thanks," when she finally regained the ability to speak. _

"_No problem, kid," he replied back. Her head rolled back, resting against his chest, and he rested his chin on her head. She took his hands in hers, their fingers threading together, then he wrapped their arms tightly around her. _

"_Talk to me, Bess," he said. "You had a panic attack because you felt something for the first time in months. Just talk to me, please?" He took a deep breath then, giving her hands a comforting squeeze. _

"_I'm just so damn sick of feeling," she said. He waited for her to finish, but nothing else came. _

"_Feeling what?" he asked. _

"_Anything at all." She twisted in his arms so that her head was buried in his chest. She was sure she would end up crying eventually since he clearly was not letting this go, but that didn't mean she needed Harvey to see her break down completely._

_But, rather than continue to bitch at her, or push her to do or feel or be something, Harvey simply sat there and held her, which, in the end, was exactly what Bess needed. _

"_I'm here," he said, and she knew. _

_It was two in the afternoon by the time Bess collected herself, and—against her better judgment and every fiber of her being, she stood up, swept herself off, looked Harvey squarely in the eye and said "Okay, jackass. Let's get the fuck of this mountain because I want a burger, dammit." And with that, she strapped her harness into a rope and prepared to climb. _

* * *

><p><em>The sun had just begun to set by the time they reached the ground. Bess would be lying if she said she hadn't freaked out several times during her descent, but true to form, Harvey hadn't let up on her once. There were numerous brilliant exchanges between the two fiery spirits, but she had to admit that Harvey yelling up to her "Come on, Pussyfoot Barbie! Aidan would have been down here in forty five minutes!" had been pretty great.<em>

_At present, Bess was standing against the wall of rock, cool and sharp against her back, breathing deeply, as though she would never get enough air again. Harvey lay on the ground close by, his eyes closed, drinking in the late day sun like a cat. _

"_Jesus Christ, I've been a shit show," she finally said, out of nowhere._

_Harvey looked up then and saw that her eyes were somewhat distant. _

"_Wanna tell me about it?" he asked, trying to sound gentle. _

"_You'll judge me, Harvey," she said, eyes turned down. _

_He smiled and turned so he could look her in the face. "Look Bess, if it's the drinking, I've seen way worse. If it's the fact that you've slept your way through half the football team—and yes, I know about that—then I'll have you know that I slept my way through the entire cheer squad during my senior year alone. You're not gonna find someone who was a bigger whore during high school than I was." He shrugged and tossed her his trademark smirk, patting the ground beside him as he did. _

_Bess went to Harvey and lay beside him, though she was careful to keep her eyes averted. She gazed at the sky instead. _

"_I'd never slept with anyone until after he died, you know. It just sorta happened, late night, long party, and I wasn't even drinking, but I just figured that the rest of my life had changed so much that I might as well throw that in. And I didn't feel anything at all," she said, nonchalantly. _

"_And I guess I should have been bothered or scared because I felt nothing, but I had spent so many weeks being sad that it was just so wonderful to feel empty of everything, so I sort of just let it keep happening. The drinking is similar, and it's so damn easy given how much booze mom and dad keep in the house." _

_She reached up to her temples then, closing her eyes and rubbing small soothing circles over the soft flesh before pulling her sunglasses over her eyes. _

"_And at this point, everyone in my circle thinks I'm easy, which I guess I am, so none of them want me. And who would after everything I've done?" she said, shrugging and laughing just a bit, though the sound was clearly a nervous one. _

"_Plenty of people would, Bess," he replied, his voice soft. He sat up slightly, reclining on his elbows so that he could read Bess's face while she spoke. _

"_Even if they did," she said, "I can't feel anything. It's like I'm broken or something. I've tried, but I don't feel a thing." _

"_You're not broken," he sighed, wishing there was some way to get it through her head that nothing was irrevocably lost here. _

"_How do you know that?" she quipped back, her voice holding the slightest edge of anger, but also fear. _

_At this, Harvey sat upright, leaning forward, propped up on one of his hands. "Sit up," he said, and Bess did as he asked—she sure as hell wasn't in the mood for a fight again—though it wasn't without some trepidation. Harvey held her gaze, his warm, dark eyes boring into her own that looked so like his. He was searching for something, she could tell, but she had no idea what it could be. When he was finally satisfied, he drew in a deep breath and spoke._

"_Bess, I'm going to kiss you now, just so you know," he said, just as simply as if he was telling her what the weather would be that day. _

_Her eyes went wide, and she had to consciously tell herself to keep breathing before she managed to let out a strangled, "okay." _

_Bess would forever remember that her first conscious thought when Harvey kissed her was how soft his lips were. After months of jocks, she was used to rough, weather hardened skin, the kind that always had a slight scratching sensation to it. But this, this was entirely different. His right hand held her cheek gently, fingers tangling in her hair. _

_She parted her lips ever so slightly, and he responded, his tongue tangling with hers, making her feel somehow whole, unlike every other man she had ever been with. His other hand went to her face, pulling her tighter against him, just as her hands went to his shoulders, pulling his upper body flush against hers. _

_Bess was completely overcome. Her breathing was erratic, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his sweat soaked shirt, and her lips were sure to be bruised in the morning, but she could care less. This was the difference between black and white, between feeling nothing and feeling literally everything. She moaned slightly, tilting her head, giving herself over to him completely, because if there was ever anyone in this world she could trust with her whole self, it was Harvey, no doubt. _

_And just like that, he pulled away, leaving her panting and unsatisfied, but feeling every bit of it. _

"_Don't try and pretend that didn't make you feel something, Bess," he said, his voice breathy and deep. Clearly, that kiss had affected him just as it had her. _

"_I wouldn't know how to pretend that," she said back, between labored breaths. _

_He nodded, looking her straight in the eye, and it was obvious that something had changed between them, though Bess wouldn't dare believe it yet. _

"_Come on, kid." Harvey stood, offering Bess his hand. "Let's go home." _

* * *

><p><em>Bess was exhausted by the time they clambered into the car, and moments after taking Harvey's hand in her own, she laid her head down on the middle console and fell fast asleep, not stirring until Harvey gently ruffled her hair and said "morning, sunshine." <em>

_They took the elevator in silence, and upon arriving home, they quickly determined that showers and take out from the Five Guys down the street was in order. _

_About twenty minutes later, Bess emerged from her room, her hair wet from the shower, wearing a pair of Aidan's overly large sweat pants and a Harvard shirt she had stolen from Harvey the summer before. Her face was clean, all the makeup she had been wearing as of late entirely gone. She was still far too skinny for his liking, but this Bess looked more like herself than Harvey had seen in ages. She sat next to Harvey, dead in the middle of the living room, and they ate on the Oriental rug while watching The Big Lebowski. _

_Eventually, they ended up on the couch, limbs tangled together, wrapped up in one another. Under different circumstances, this would have appeared somewhat sexual, but there was almost a degree of innocence to it, more comfort than sex, especially given what they had both been through that day. But that didn't stop Harvey from taking some pleasure in the girl he was holding. He rested his chin on her head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair, and something that just distinctly said 'Bess' underneath it, before placing a gentle kiss on her head. _

_Bess was now entirely sober and, unlike during her previous rants, she now had a very firm grip on what Harvey meant to her. Earlier, he was the main source of pain and annoyance in her life. But now, she couldn't get it out of her head that here she was cuddled on the couch with the guy she had been in love with since her brother brought him home after school one day when she was five. _

_The movie ended, but neither of them went to move. Bess shifted slightly, settling herself further against Harvey's broad chest. It took her a moment to work up the courage, largely because she didn't want anything awkward to happen, before she could speak. _

"_When are you going back to Mass?" Her delivery was nonchalant, as though it didn't matter. _

"_Late tomorrow afternoon," he replied. "I think the train leaves at four, maybe five. Why?" The question was entirely unfair. Harvey knew exactly why she had asked him that. _

_Bess chewed her lower lip for a moment, her nervous habit, before she choked out, "You know…I really don't like being in the condo all by myself." _

_Harvey chuckled a little and ran his thumb up and down the side of her hand. "And?" _

"_Are you staying here?" Her voice was small and timid, clearly nervous. _

"_Yeah, kid, I'll stay," he said with a smile, no longer having the heart to tease her and keep her on her toes. _

_A yawn escaped her mouth, just as the tension drained from her worry over being left alone._

"_Long day, let's get you to bed." He stood and helped her to her feet, following her to her bedroom where she slowly climbed into her overly large bed and crawled beneath the thick down comforter. She looked as peaceful as he had seen her since June. _

_Harvey walked over to her slowly, laid a kiss on her forehead, mumbled a goodnight and turned to leave. _

"_Harvey?" she called after him, stopping him in his tracks. He turned and looked at her before she continued. "Why did you kiss me earlier?" _

_At this Harvey stopped, looked her dead in the eye and tried to find something within her brown orbs. She was a mess, to be sure, but even after Scotty and more brilliant, beautiful, genius women than he could handle, something about Bess made him feel decent. She represented the good in the world for him. _

"_You remember that impromptu concert of sorts you and Aidan did last May?" _

_She nodded her head and continued to look at him, trying to read anything from his face, though of course, she couldn't. _

"_I've wanted to kiss you ever since then," he said simply. It wasn't like him to be honest with women. Harvey had serious trust issues when it came to the female sex. Years of an exceedingly erratic mother had taught him to be wary of them. But something about Bess made him drop every last one of his well-constructed defenses. Perhaps it was the fact that he had watched her grow up, that he knew innately what a good person she was, that she had sat there with him when she was eleven—after he threw out his arm, when he was told he would never play baseball again—and made him a big pot of tea and told him that everything would be perfectly fine because he was so smart and smart people always had good things happen to them. Whatever it was, when he spoke to her, he was always honest._

"_And I wanted you to know that no matter what, I will never think of you as broken." _

_Bess teared up a bit, he could tell. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she sniffled, pulling the comforter up to her chin._

_They stayed like that, each one unable to figure out what to do next. The entire dynamic of their relationship had just shifted, and it was clear that there was no going back from it. So Bess looked up at him, a small, shy smile on her face, the kind that showed him more than anything that she was hardly broken and asked, "Will you stay with me?" _

"_Just for sleeping," he replied, cocking his eyebrow slightly at her. "You have to promise not to try to seduce me." Now he was teasing her, but the smile on her face was so adorable that he couldn't help but try to make her laugh. _

"_Scouts honor," she replied, giving him a mock salute. _

_And with that, satisfied that nothing nefarious was going to happen, Harvey climbed beneath the covers and took Bess into his arms, her head resting against his chest, the fingers of one of her hands tangled in his shirt. _

_As they fell asleep, breathing slowing, it struck them both how, for the first time in months, they felt safe. And no matter what, they would always feel safe together. _

* * *

><p>AN: R/R PEOPLE! Hopefully some positive feedback will get the muse going so we can figure out what happens with Bess and Harvey in the present day. Plus, I'm sure Donna's night post the opera was HIGHLY entertaining._  
><em>


	9. Chapter Eight

Hey friends. Sorry it's been ages since I last updated. Life got a little crazy, but you get two chapters today! And good lord willing, we'll see Bess and Harvey interact in the present again soon. R/R.

Disclaimer: If I owned Suits, Harvey would never be at work. Sadly, I don't.

* * *

><p>Harvey Specter was not a happy camper. Not at all. After one too many glasses of champagne and the company of a rather adorable little brunette he knew, he did not want to be woken for any reason at all. But, alas, his cellphone would not stop ringing. He inched gingerly out of the bed-noting that he was still at Bess's apartment—pulled on his boxers and grabbed the offending little piece of technology.<p>

Of course. Donna was calling. He answered the phone quickly, if only to stop the pounding in his head. _Hang over. Great. _

"What?" he said, briskly, his voice rather raw and clearly indicating what he had been up to the night before.

"You sound like I feel," he got in response. Donna's normally husky voice had dropped into the baritone octave. Obviously, she'd had a rather fun night as well. "But _I'm_ still at the office, at least. And if you're not here soon, a certain managing partner will not be happy. Apparently some new client needs some hand holding over a merger, and she wants you."

Harvey was half way listening to Donna, though the other half of his brain was occupied with thoughts of where the heck Bess had gone off to. She wasn't in bed, and when he peaked into the overly large bathroom attached to the master bedroom, she wasn't there either. He finally returned to sit on the bed only to have a small piece of paper on her pillow catch his eye. It read:

_Off to London for a while. In rehearsals for _Euegene Onegin. _The cake on the counter is for you and Donna. And take some aspirin, or you'll hate yourself all day. _

_B_

"Harvey!" And there she went again. That damned woman.

"Donna," he replied, "you know it isn't kind to scream at someone who has a hangover."

"Oh, I'm sorry mister man. Shall I fetch you a Bloody Mary and your comfy slippers and let you put your feet up for a while?" Her tone was dripping with sarcasm and clearly said _I'm playing the world's smallest violin, just for you. _It was the sort of thing only Donna could get away with.

"Look, I'll be there soon. Just….hold Jessica off or no cake for you." There was a momentary pause before Donna spoke again.

"Bess baked a cake?"

"Yes."

"The cake?"

"Yes."

"The _chocolate_ cake?"

"Yes."

If there was anything in this world that Donna was a sucker for, it was Bess's damned chocolate cake. _Well hell,_ she thought. _There goes all my gym time for the week._

"Aye aye, Captain."

Harvey ended the call and quickly threw on his undershirt, slacks and shoes, then sent Donna a text telling her to meet him in the lobby with his extra suit. He was about to turn on his heels and leave when something at the end of the bed caught his eye. There, folded all neatly, was his Harvard shirt that Bess had stolen all those years ago. Picking it up, he caught the sweet scent of her perfume, the orange blossom conditioner she used, the slightest hint of fresh baked cookies, and something underneath that just meant _Bess_ to him. He lifted the shirt to his face and breathed deeply, taking her in. He wasn't sure if he was meant to have the shirt, but he took it anyway, wanting to at least keep a little of her with him.

If he was honest, Harvey had no idea what to expect from Bess after last night, and he certainly didn't know how he would have handled waking up next to her in the morning. But, to have her up and leave in the middle of the night was more than a little disconcerting. He shot Donna another text asking her to figure out how long Bess was in London and, if possible, where the hell she was staying before heading for the kitchen.

The cake was sitting right there, just as he was sure it would be, and of course, it was the damned chocolate cake that had once made Donna proclaim that, were she a lesbian, she would gladly make sweet, sweet love to Bess all night. Harvey had been very quick to remind her that, thank you very much, that was his job. He picked up the tray with the cake and noticed a key underneath it with a post-it note attached.

_Take the damn key._

A key. To her apartment.

It took a moment for it to register, but he finally grabbed the key and shoved it into his pants pocket. He'd had a key to the penthouse since he was thirteen up until the ill-fated day when he had walked out. Briefly, he remembered the painful experience of throwing his key in Bess's general direction as he stormed out the door, duffel bag in hand. It had not been a pretty scene.

And yet, there she was with a peace offering, once again, essentially inviting him back into her life, if he wanted. Of all the people he had hurt in his life, Bess had been the worst, by far. He knew how much courage it must have taken for her to once again open herself up to him. Despite everything, she still trusted him, and that had to count for something.


	10. Chapter Nine

_June 8__th__ 2001_

_Bess was grateful as she sat there, chilled to the bone in the old cathedral, that her brother Aidan had been able to plan the funeral service himself. His wishes were very clear:_

_1) Music. Tons of it. He didn't care what, so long as Bess sang. _

_2) Bess and Harvey were both required to speak, though Bess would deliver the official eulogy. _

_3) Bess and Harvey were to act as pallbearers, along with several of Aidan's other closest friends. _

_4) That there be a huge party afterwards at the family home, complete with a jazz combo. Bess had protested the final point, but Aidan insisted that it would lift spirits. And he would be damned if his funeral were entirely depressing. _

_5) Food. Tons of it. If there was anything Aidan had loved during his life, it was food…and Bess. _

_Harvey had been told to sit with the family. As Aidan had put it to him, "You're my brother, you idiot. Sit with our family." And so, Bess sat there, her head on Harvey's shoulder, tears silently falling from both their eyes. _

_Harvey's speech had been beautiful, full of love, the kind that made people laugh and cry all at once. As soon as he returned to her side, Bess clung to him. She would be lying if she said she were mentally present for the entire service. Most of it she spent contemplating how good Harvey smelled, like soap and rain, fresh cut grass, his cologne and something that just smelled like him. It was as though her mind had shut down, oblivious to what was occurring, because she simply couldn't stand it anymore. _

_Harvey's gentle tones roused her from her thoughts. "Bess," he said. "They're waiting for you." _

_She looked up, slightly confused, and then it registered. It was time for the eulogy. She nodded her head, took the rumpled pieces of paper beside her into her hands, stood, smoothed her dress, and walked up to the lectern. _

_Bess observed the sight before her. The church was huge, easily seating over six hundred people, and every pew was stuffed to the gills. People had lined the walls and were standing throughout the entire service, which at this point had gone on two hours. It was somewhat overwhelming. Drawing a shaky breath, she began. _

"_Growing up, Aidan and I would spend hours in the library at home. For those of you who were our childhood playmates, you would know that this was hardly academic or entirely educational. You see, Aidan was a book worm, but he also had a penchant for acting out the most exciting parts of whatever book he was reading at that point." Here she paused, allowing the friends who knew what she was talking about to burst into a fit of giggles, Harvey among them. _

"_By the time I was five, I had participated in several heists in the Old West, sailed all seven seas, hunted for buried treasure, and led Frodo Baggins back to the Shire, all without leaving my apartment. And so, I remember, did many of you." She smirked a bit when she saw Mark Henson, who was one of the fiercest pirates and warrior elves around. _

"_We both eventually grew out of our desire to leap about the library, sliding down banisters and rigging sails from the ceiling. But the library remained one of our favorite places." _

"_It was there, when I was fourteen that I discovered Wuthering Heights, which quickly became my favorite novel, especially given my propensity for tragedy." Again, more laughs filled the church. _

"_There's a passage I wish to share with you, one that Cathy speaks about Heathcliff, though for me, it always and forever summed up my love for Aidan."_

_At this, Bess almost lost her nerve. It was as though saying those words aloud would mean that Aidan was well and truly long. Bess looked desperately to Harvey who stood instantly, walked to the lectern and took her hand. She took a deep, slow breath and said, in a voice clear and calm: "_He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."

_She paused then, letting the sentiment sink in for those present and giving Harvey and grateful glance before she continued. _

"_Before he died—and how he did it, I will never know—Aidan managed to get a hold of a first edition copy of Wuthering Heights, a gift for me."_

_She started crying then, soft and slow, but she smiled nonetheless, remembering how everything happened. She laid down the papers and stepped out from the lectern, simply talking. _

"_Aidan and I had this thing for writing letters. Most of you know how he spent a semester abroad in Germany, and the whole time he was gone, we wrote letters to one another every day, even though email would have been far quicker. There was just something about holding something tangible in my hands, something from him, that made the distance seem not so great." _

"_So, last night, I finally opened the book he gave me, straight to the page where Cathy tells Nelly that Heathcliff is more herself than she is…"_

_Her voice broke there, and she looked back at Harvey. He had been there when it happened. He simply smiled and nodded, urging her to go forward. _

"_And there was this little, folded piece of paper, right there, pressed between those pages. And when I opened it, all it said was 'Dear Bess, You know. Aidan'" _

_Almost everyone in the audience understood what that meant, the weird habit the siblings had of never saying 'I love you,' how they needed something more, something for them. _

"_I think that sums it up pretty well," she said, simply. "You know," she said, shrugging her shoulders and smiling through her tears. "Every one of us was drawn here because we knew and loved Aidan. And there is nothing I can sit here and say about him, about how talented and smart and kind and caring and loving and giving he was that you don't already know." _

"_When I asked Aidan what he wanted me to tell you all, he said this." She pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her suit jacket and read aloud: "Tell them that I loved them all, that I loved every minute I spent with them, even Mark Henson, even when he stole my pirate sword in the 3__rd__ grade." _

_At this, the cathedral erupted into laughter. Anyone who had known Aidan knew of that incident. It was one of his favorites. _

_And looking out at the group before her, Bess couldn't help but laugh along with them, full and loud and filled with joy. And in that moment, Aidan was there, in his own way. She smiled again, happy to see this. _

"_So, this is how I ask you to remember my brother, as you do in this moment, as a man who loved us all, who, always wanted to bring us joy and make us laugh." _

_Everyone nodded and smiled as Bess walked down from the lectern, her hand threaded through into Harvey's since he had somehow caught up with her. She paused briefly by Aidan's casket, kneeling down and leaning her head against the cold, dark wood. "You know," she said simply, and then she returned to her seat where Harvey held her for the rest of the service. _

* * *

><p><em>The party had been going for six hours by now. It was nearing two in the morning, and only the really dedicated people were left, but that easily amassed to forty people. Bess had been sure that Aidan was wrong about the stupid party, but in the end, he had been right, just like always. It had been an absolute riot. Someone, though Bess wasn't sure who, had been wise enough to order a keg, and the vast majority of the party was spent re-enacting hilarious incidents from Aidan's life, telling stories and sharing lessons they had all learned together. The air was thick and full of her brother tonight, so much that Bess could barely breathe anymore. <em>

_And that was how she found herself on the roof of the building. Her balcony was one of her favorite places, but it wrapped around the apartment, and there was no guarantee of privacy from it tonight. Instead, she shed her shoes, let her hair down from the chignon it had been in all day and took to the roof. _

_She wasn't up there for long before she heard someone approach, and she was positive of who it was. It was no secret that Aidan's one request from Harvey had been to look after her, so she was not at all surprised to see him when he sat beside her on one of the chairs she and Aidan had dragged up there several years ago. _

"_How're you doing Elisabeth?" he asked. _

_She shrugged in response, not entirely sure. "I feel weird today," was her response. _

_He nodded and looked out over the city, all the lights blazing. "It sorta feels like he's still here, doesn't it?" _

_She contemplated that for a bit, then smiled. "Yeah. He was here today." Drawing a deep breath, Bess tucked her feet under herself, adjusting her dress so that it covered her legs. _

"_I think the thing I'm gonna miss the most is being called Bess." _

_Harvey threw her a quizzical look, then she saw recognition register on his face. "Yeah, why was he the only person who called you that? I tried calling you that once when I was thirteen, and you threw a complete temper tantrum, if I remember." _

_She laughed at the memory, head falling back as she nodded. "Yeah, I was a spitfire."_

"_Was?" he quipped back, not quite dodging quickly enough when Bess playfully punched his shoulder. _

_Bess ran a hand through her hair, ruffling it a bit. "Aidan couldn't say his Ls when he was little. Did you know that?" _

_Harvey shook his head, but remained silent, wanting to know the rest of the story. _

"_Well, he couldn't, which was no problem until I was born. But, whenever he talked to me or about me, I was Ewisabeth." A giggle escaped her mouth. "And he hated it because he knew he wasn't saying it right, and my mom and dad felt bad. And calling me Liz or Lizzy clearly wasn't gonna be of any help, and he was really sad about it. Then dad told him that Queen Elizabeth I was often times referred to as Bess. And that he could say, so that was what he called me, and it stuck, even after he learned how to speak properly. And it was our thing, which is why he was the only one allowed to call me Bess." She smiled, and Harvey knew that she was replaying the sound of her brother saying her name in her head. "I'll miss having someone in my life to call me that." _

"_I could," he responded without thought. _

_Bess turned her head and looked at Harvey, then smiled. It was such a natural thought. Everyone used to joke about Harvey and Aidan, the ultimate bromance, bromates. It seemed only appropriate to let him take over Aidan's name for her. _

"_Okay," she said, a nostalgic smile still lighting her face. Then she held out her hand to him, an honest and sincere look on her face. "Hi," she said. "I'm Bess Covington. Nice to meet you." _

"_Harvey Specter," he said back, taking her hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. They both smiled then, and Bess laughed just a bit before scooting closer and laying her head on his shoulder. _

"_Thanks Harvey."_

"_Sure thing, Bess." _


	11. Chapter Ten

Hey friends! Sorry it's been a while; real life has just been eating all my free time, and the muse just hasn't been with me. Hopefully that will change soon.

Disclaimer: I own many things, but Suits is not one of them.

* * *

><p>Jessica Pearson had been waiting for Harvey to arrive for an hour and a half when she finally received word that he had made his way into the office. She smirked a bit, reapplied her perfectly red lipstick, then made her way to his office and seated herself at his desk. The look on his face when he walked in the door was nothing short of delightful.<p>

"Why, Jessica, you're looking positively ready to bust some balls today," he quipped, before seating himself across from his managing partner. "What can I do for you?"

A knowing, crooked smile spread across her face, and Jessica took her time before responding. Finally she said, "I understand that you have some business to attend to in London."

Harvey's first thoughts were of Donna, of the Christmas bonus he had recently given her, of the Valentino gown he bought her, and of all the different ways he could kill her. Of course she would have let it slip that he had been with Bess. Jessica had always loved her, too. _Those women._

"Nothing that can't be handled at a later date," he replied, but his overly flat tone gave him away. Sure, Harvey was an expert liar, but it was hard to do with Jessica, and it was always hard to lie when the subject was Bess.

"Harvey Specter, if you let that woman shove you out of her life again, I'll have to start doubting your skills as a closer."

There was a tense moment between the pair. Despite the fact that Harvey and Bess had been together during his time with the DA, as something of a surrogate parent, Jessica had still gotten know Bess and come to love her. Everyone did.

"No matter," she continued. "The firm is handling a merger. All the due diligence is done, but they want someone impressive to close the deal. In London."

In his younger years, Harvey would have made a show of arguing with Jessica. At this point, however, he simply couldn't bring himself to. He knew better.

"When do I leave?"

"We have you out of JFK at eight this evening. Meetings start at nine tomorrow morning. You're free by six at the latest." She paused and looked over a piece of paper on her desk before continuing. "And Elisabeth will be at a charity event that evening, but she should be home by ten at the latest. Her address is in your itinerary."

Harvey rose and pulled on his overcoat, then gathered his things and turned to leave.

"Should we bother to book you into the Ritz, or should I assume that you're staying elsewhere?" Jessica threw over his shoulder with a hint of a laugh.

He paused only momentarily and asked, "Jessica is that even a question?" then headed out the door.

* * *

><p>Ten o'clock, the following evening<p>

Bess thanked the driver—a lovely man from India—before she stepped out of the car and into the cool night air. Her house, the one she and Aidan had bought shortly before he died, shone brightly in the distance. The driveway was quite long, and in heels and a gown it was a little ridiculous, but she loved the walk nonetheless.

She pondered that very dress as she walked. It was a purple chiffon and silk Valentino, ruffled and poofy as all get, out with a strapless sweetheart neckline. She had bought it right after she and Harvey had started dating, and it had been her go-to dress ever since. It had been worn to dances and balls, performances, charity events, and a certain cocktail reception ten years ago that she loved to remember.

Her key slipped into the lock, turning gently. She swung the door open, only to be greeted by the wafting scent of something delicious. A smile moved across her face. It had to be Marcus, the lovely second year Masters student who lived a few doors down. He had a key to her place and kept an eye on it while she was in New York, and every once in a while he would show up out of the blue and cook her dinner when he knew she'd had a long night. Had he not been gay, she would have probably married him years ago.

"Marcus, you really are a saint, you know," she said, tossing her bags on the chair by the door before moving into the kitchen.

When she reached the kitchen, there certainly was a man in it, though not the one she had expected. There stood Harvey Specter, dressed in a simple pair of khakis, a button down and a long black v-neck sweater, his feet bare.

"Try this," he said, moving towards her and holding out a spoon with some delicious deep red liquid on it. "Careful," he chided. "I'd hate to see that ruined." The cocky smile that brushed across his lips clearly said that he recognized the dress.

Bess did as he asked—shocked out of speaking—and let out an appreciative sigh when the broth hit her mouth.

"Mmmm…coq au vin?" she questioned.

"Yep."

"Blood or rue?"

Harvey scoffed slightly. "Blood. Come now. Is that even a question?"

And then, there was silence. They stood like that, inches from one another, waiting for some sort of response, for anything to be said. Finally, Bess grew tired of waiting.

"Harvey, what the hell are you doing in my house, in London of all places?"

"Between your assistant and Marcus, Donna had a very easy time getting a hold of the key." They both knew that was not the question she had asked but for the moment, at least, the answer would do. He indicated a seat at the small, two person table near the stove, and pulled it out for her. Bess took the seat appreciatively and sipped from the red wine in front of her, still not entirely sure how to react to this situation.

She sat there, small like a child, while Harvey went about setting their plates before them. He finally took a seat, a glass of scotch in hand, a few minutes later. They ate in relative silence, companionable, but silent nonetheless until finally there was nothing more to eat, and the pair sat there, nursing their drinks. Bess desperately tried to avoid Harvey's eyes so as to hid her guilt for leaving, and he was doing his very best to force her to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Bess looked up, shocked at what she had just heard. In all the time they had known each other, and even after everything that had happened, Harvey had never apologized. He had come close, to be sure, but it had never been said absolutely. She looked up and held his gaze, but said nothing.

"I should have never left, and I shouldn't have let you push me away."

Bess sighed and looked up, then took a swig of red wine, all the while searching Harvey's face for something, though he couldn't be sure what. Finally, after another long draw from her glass, she spoke.

"I nearly died."

"I know."

"I spent three weeks in the psych ward and another three years in therapy once I left the hospital. Did you know about that?"

Harvey looked stricken. He knew, and it was a constant source of guilt for him.

"Donna told me," he said with a nod. "She said she took you home when they let you out. She said you were refusing to eat."

Bess looked at him, and nodded, her face blank, cold. Harvey knew that look quite well, and it scared him. Then, without any warning, she made a move he hadn't seen coming.

"I forgave you years ago, Harvey. There's nothing to apologize for anymore." He stared back at her, slightly confused, so she went on. "We were kids, and what with how messed up your family is and the complete loss of mine, no wonder that you wanted to jump at the chance to have a family with me."

"But you didn't want to," he countered, a slight edge to his voice.

Bess sighed again, fighting for the urge to pull away completely and hide again. Harvey saw her struggling, and he reached swiftly for her hand, holding it in his own. They stayed that way for lord only knows how long before Bess finally spoke.

"I sat on the couch and cried for hours after that stupid fucking stick turned blue, Harvey. I cried because it was everything I wanted for us, and it happened ten years too early, and I just knew. I knew you would be over the moon, but it just wasn't the right time, not by a long shot. And I almost didn't tell you, because what you don't know won't hurt you, but I can't lie to you, Harvey. I never have been able to do that."

She ran her free hand through her hair and downed the rest of her wine before she went on, looking him dead in the eye.

"I wanted that baby, Harvey. To this day, I've never wanted anything as much as I wanted that."

"Then why—"

"Because I would have hated you, both of you, if I didn't have a shot at this, at my career. I would have come to resent you, and I loved you too much to let that happen. And it sounds selfish, and lord knows, it is, but it would have killed me to hate you, and I never would have made it where I am if I was a mother at nineteen."

He nodded and looked down, and Bess noted that Harvey looked very small. It happened so rarely. He was such a dominant man, such a huge persona, but every once in a while he went soft, and she saw it happening now.

"Bess, I have no idea why you chose now to come back to me, but I'm not letting you leave again, so you might as well just get used to that." He nodded slightly looking down at her hand and clinging to it.

And with that, something inside of Bess shifted, uncurling and stretching until her chest felt like it was about to burst.

"Okay," was all she said.

* * *

><p>AN: Up next, Harvey and Bess spend some time together in London and ya'll will finally find out what the hell happened ten years ago in all it's messy and tragic detail.

Also, the little reference to blood or rue is a cooking thing. Coq au vin ALWAYS tastes better when the sauce is thickened with blood instead of rue, and I've always imagined that Harvey knew his way around a kitchen rather well.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Hey all. Life is going to continue to be hell here for a while, so I'm probably going to be a little erratic with the updates, but I'll do my best to give you something new as often as I can without writing complete garbage.

Disclaimer: Not mine, except Bess.

* * *

><p>Harvey remembered almost every detail of the precious months in which he and Bess had lived together. But as he woke in the pale, mid-morning London light with soft music in the background, he remembered something he had forgotten.<p>

Bess couldn't sleep in silence. For as long as he had known her, she always had some sort of music playing while she slept. As a result, she had compiled the perfect sleep mix which she set on shuffle ever night. It was all instrumental, ran ten hours long, and if his memory served him right, it hadn't change much in ten years. Harvey remembered thinking it weird all those years ago, but on this day, he had to admit that he hadn't slept quite that well in years. But, whether that was for the company or the music, he wasn't sure.

In his arms lay a small, sleeping girl, her brown hair spread out everywhere like jellyfish tendrils. Harvey smiled at his good fortune. Here he was, in London, with nothing to do for the next four days and a beautiful girl who he had loved for who knows how long asleep in his arms. It was more than he knew what to do with. And so, he brushed Bess's hair aside and gently nuzzled her neck, kissing it ever so lightly until she was just barely conscious.

"Pancakes?" he asked, his lips moving lightly against the milky skin of her neck. A moan was the only response he got, but it was enough. Bess was next to impossible to wake, and she was nothing short of downright unpleasant when she was startled. So Harvey had learned that kisses and food were the best combination for rousing her. And given that it was well past ten in the morning, and with a city like London just waiting for them, she needed to get up.

A small mouthful of noises escaped Bess's lips as she burrowed further into the bed, something along the lines of _eggs and bacon, too,_ or so Harvey assumed. So he laid one last kiss on her neck and gently disentangled their limbs before leaving the warmth of Bess's bed. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, and then with one swift glance at the gorgeous little creature beside him, he went on his way.

About fifteen minutes later, a slightly rumpled Bess emerged from her room wearing nothing more than Harvey's discarded button down and a pair of knee-high socks. Her hair was a mass of waves, mussed both from sleep and sex. She ran a hand through the mess before pulling herself up to perch on the counter behind the stove where Harvey was making her what appeared to be blueberry pancakes. _What a miraculously good man. _As soon as her pancakes had been flipped, she reached out and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him toward her, his back pressed against her chest.

Harvey laughed at this, deep and throaty. Bess's hands were tangled in the front of his shirt, her nose nuzzling against his neck, breathing in the smell of him. He knew exactly what she was doing because this had been their pattern. Late night, he would make breakfast, she would do everything in the world to try to convince him to come back to bed, and she always won in the end, but never before she ate. His pancakes were just that good.

"You know," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "they're gonna burn if you don't let me go." Bess was not one risk the safety of perfectly good blueberry pancakes, so she reluctantly released her grip and dropped from the counter as she did, then moved to the living room.

"What are you doing?" he called after her.

"Putting on some music," was her response. Harvey watched her saunter away, swinging her hips just a tad bit more than usual. She returned moments later, the sounds of some band he distantly recognized coming from the record player in the living room.

"You still listen to vinyl?" he asked.

"Anything I can get my hands on, but my iPod and I are still pretty close," was her response.

Harvey would never openly admit to it, but both he and Bess knew that she was ultimately responsible for his love of records, and for about sixty percent of his collection. Bess grabbed two glasses, filled them with orange juice and then sat at the bar, where Harvey set her plate.

"Who's this?"

"Bon Iver," she replied. "It's off the first album. It's good winter music," she said simply. Harvey cocked an eyebrow at her as she stabbed a forkful of eggs and shoved them in her mouth. "And no. I do not think that just because of the name. I am, in fact, capable of independent thought."

"Sure you are," he countered, though the playful tone gave him away entirely.

As was their custom, they sat together, eating in relative silence, aside from remarks about the weather, or the occasional snarky jab at one another. Finally, Bess rose and tossed the dishes in the sink, then grabbed Harvey's hand and all but forcibly pulled him back to her bed. They both knew full well than she didn't have rehearsal that day, and Bess seemed pretty intent on staying in bed. And despite his earlier plans, Harvey was more than happy to indulge her.

So, there he lay and Bess quickly laid her head on his chest, slung and arm and a leg across his body, then sighed deeply. They stayed just like that until a sharp buzzing noise broke the solace in Bess's warm bedroom. She leaned up and reached over Harvey for her cellphone, giggling when she looked at the screen.

"What is it?" Harvey finally asked when the curiosity had gotten the better of him. Bess giggled and flopped onto the bed beside him on her back, holding her phone in her hands right over her head.

"Donna is sending me hate texts since, apparently, you left the whole chocolate cake with her. She is now claiming that I'm personally responsible for the ten or so hours of extra gym time she needs if she is still going to fit into her clothes." She laughed once more, then tossed her phone off the bed and onto the plush rug beneath it before turning to face Harvey, propping herself up on her elbow. The look she gave him nearly made Harvey's breath catch in his throat. Instead, he reached his hand out, cupping her cheek. Bess turned, as was usual, and kissed the inside of his palm.

"Mmm…"she moaned between kisses. "I've missed this." Harvey would have agreed, if only he'd had the mind too. He was simply too busy enjoying Bess's proximity. Just then, a large thunderclap was heard overhead, and the sky opened up, rain pouring down. Bess reached for her phone, checked some weather app, and promptly declared, "Well, the Brits never let rain stop them, but we're hardly Brits, so I think we're staying here for the day."

"Fine by me," he countered, sinking further into Bess's overly large bed.

Bess suddenly had a wonderful idea, or so it appeared to Harvey, for she sprang out of bed, and ran from the room, still in nothing more than his shirt and her absurdly colorful socks. He knew better than to call after her; she would never answer anyway. So he waited until she returned with a heavy, leather-bound book in her hand, and a look on her face that he hadn't seen since she was a child.

"You know what we haven't done in ages?" she asked, as she slowly crawled in bed.

He smirked then, glad to see that so little had changed despite all their time apart. "Give it here," he said, holding out his hand where Bess gladly deposited the book. She settled herself against him, careful to still give him room enough to hold the book, which he opened and began.

"Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do…" he said. And Bess could not have thought of a more perfect way to spend the day.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah...Harvey was read to Bess from Alice in Wonderland. I like to think that it's a left over habit from when she was a kid, something Aidan used to do that Harvey picked up. Next chapter is a flashback to when all the ugly icky stuff went down and how Harvey and Bess split back in the day. Should be up in a few days if the muse is with me.

Reviews, please! They help feed the muse. :)


	13. Chapter Twelve

Hey ya'll. Get ready for some angst. Generally pretty happy with this one, but I am DYING to know what you all think as it'll help determine the direction for the rest of the story. PLEASE REVIEW.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just like to play in the sandbox.

* * *

><p>Late June, 2002<p>

You're going to have to tell him eventually, _she thought. _

_Bess and Harvey had been curled up in bed for several hours now. He'd had a long day at work, and as a result of several large wins, the DA had given him Friday off. So that was how Bess found herself wrapped up in a large blanket, her head on Harvey's chest while he read to her from_ Alice in Wonderland. _Alice was currently in the middle of the tea party with the Mad Hatter, one of Bess's favorite passages, but she simply could not concentrate. _

_Harvey paused for dramatic effect right as the word's left Bess's mouth: _"I'm pregnant."

_The thing was, Bess had expected things to play out much the way they happened, but that didn't stop her from being torn apart when Harvey's face broke out into the most dopey smile she had ever seen, or when he jumped out of bed, picking her up and spinning her around, or for that matter, when he started going on about how he had always wanted a daughter. He had asked her how, and she got flustered and explained how the damn antibiotics she had been on rendered the pill inactive, stupid doctors had failed to tell her that. He seemed to view it as something of a miracle. _

_This was all turning out to be a complete mess. Bess was glad she had called Donna only minutes before to ask her to come over and mediate this whole thing. After all, somehow, Harvey had failed to notice Bess's own feelings. _

"I can't have the baby, Harvey. I'm not ready."

_But of course he wasn't going to buy that. He simply continued smiling, took it as her being scared. He went on and on about how loving she was, how great she was with kids, and hell, it wasn't like either of them would ever have to work, what with the family fortune, part of which had gone to Harvey. He'd take the year off, and then go work at Pearson Hardman, and as for her, Juilliard could wait. _

_That was the straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. Bess simply wasn't up for that idea. In all her years of knowing him, Harvey had always supported her dreams completely and fully. So to see him dismiss them and push them aside like this was not only scary, it was enraging. _

"Harvey, I'm not going to have this baby."

_Bess thanked whatever higher power would listen that Donna chose this moment to come running in the door. All the color had drained from Harvey's face, and while he had never been directly angry with her before, Bess could tell he was now. _

"Why not?

"I'm not ready."

"You're just being selfish."

"No. It's my choice."

"I should have a say, too."

"Well, you don't. I want to go to Juilliard. I want to have a career."

"You don't want it."

"Of course I do. But neither of us is ready."

"I am. You're just being selfish."

_Harvey chose that moment to storm out of the bedroom, leaving Bess and Donna sitting there confused. Donna comforted Bess, then went after Harvey, trying her very best to calm him down. Instead, she found him hastily grabbing suit bags in between calling for a car. He was shoving other things into several suitcases, and it was clear he was planning to leave. She tried her best to reasons with him, to tell him that Bess was barely more than a child, but she knew it wouldn't work. _

_She had known the day she met him that Harvey wasn't one for emotions. Use them, but don't have them. But the moment she met Bess, saw them together, Donna saw that this rule applied to everyone, literally everyone and everything, save for Bess. She didn't know the complete details of his own family life, but suffice it to say that Donna knew Harvey's family was royally fucked up. And here he was with a chance at the family he always wanted, and nothing he could do was going to persuade Bess to give it to him. It was more than he could bare, and she could see that. _

"_Harvey, look, Elisabeth is just young, but she'll get there. Just don't be an idiot right now, and you'll get everything you want. Just give it time."_

"_Oh please, Donna, spare yourself," he said, all while continuing to shove random articles of clothing in a duffle bag. "She was practically giving herself to anyone who would have her after Aidan died, and I'm never home. Who knows if that kid's even mine." _

_He turned then, only to see Bess in the doorway, her face completely unreadable. _

_Donna would remember that next moment forever, she was quite sure of it. Bess stood there, her jaw set hard in her face. For his part, Harvey didn't betray anything either. They simply stared at each other, perhaps even for a solid minute, until Bess nodded slightly. _

"_I assume you called a car?" she asked. _

"_Yeah. It'll be here in ten."_

"_I'll make sure to be out of the house Monday and Tuesday. Send someone to get your things, or get them yourself. Just make sure they're out by Wednesday and leave the key." _

"_Done," he said, slinging a bag over his shoulder. It was clear it would take him several trips to get everything down stairs, so Bess left the room and locked herself in the music room. _

"_Help me get this stuff downstairs," he said, indicating the various suitcases he had hastily packed. _

"_No," Donna replied simply. _

"_What?"_

"_No. Frankly, I haven't decided if I'm going to be at your desk come Monday morning, but I am most certainly not going to help you now. Elisabeth needs me far more than you do. Find someone else to be your pack mule." _

"_If you're not there Monday, you're fired."_

"_If I'm not there Monday, I'm not coming back at all." _

* * *

><p><em>Harvey was an absolute mess by the time he got to the hospital. Donna had called, and given the events of the previous twenty four hours, he was deeply inclined not to answer. But for some reason he did. He remembered very little of their conversation, but he had quickly understood that Bess was in serious trouble and he needed to be at the hospital. <em>

_When he arrived, he found Donna, hair all askew, her eye makeup dripping halfway down her face. _

_Their conversation was brief, hurried, with words flying out of their mouths, wheeling and spinning, overlapping left and right._

_Donna managed to convey that the pregnancy had been ectopic. Bess's fallopian tube had burst in the middle of the night causing massive internal bleeding. She was in surgery, but that was all Donna knew for the time being. Supposedly the surgeon would be out to speak to them soon. And for the record, Bess had listed Harvey as he next of kin. _Well, shit.

_And so they sat, drinking the world's worst coffee, Harvey finally shrugging off his suit jacket, then removing his tie, and finally his button down, till he stood there in nothing but and undershirt and slacks, his hair just as matted as Donna's. _

_Finally, the surgeon appeared. To this day, Harvey would never remember exactly what the man said, but once it became clear that Bess was alive and relatively unscathed—though she never would have been able to have that baby anyway—he hugged the man fiercely and proceeded to sob, even if he would never admit to it now. They had waited another two hours until they were allowed to see Bess, and Harvey literally never left her bedside until she woke. _

_Donna couldn't blame Bess for what happened next. It was easy for her to understand it. She had been abandoned by her brother, then her parents, even if neither of those things happened by choice, and Harvey had effectively become her family. For him to walk out on her without so much as trying was heartbreaking, and Donna couldn't blame the sweet girl. _

_Bess had opened her eyes looked up at Harvey, and asked what the hell he was doing there. He barely had words to answer, and before he found them, Bess told him to leave. He simply sat there, shocked and stunned, not entirely sure what to do until Bess started screaming. _

_Donna hadn't ever heard the girl raise her voice. She was far too careful never to do anything to damage it, so hearing her scream in itself would have been scary enough. But the sound that came from her throat was more animal than human. She screamed and thrashed, yelling for someone, anyone to make him leave, get him the hell out of her room. The thrashing and yelling was violent, almost as if she didn't have control over her body, and it caused her stitches to tear, blood seeping forth like crimson tears. _

_It was another two hours before the doctors managed to calm her and fix her incision. They'd had to sedate her, and frankly, no one was sure about her mental state. Everyone agreed it was best if Harvey leave, even him, though reluctantly of course. The one thing he had asked was if he could see her again, just for a minute. The doctor, who Harvey remembered as a tall, middle aged blonde man, seemed to understand, and so he gave Harvey five minutes to sit in her room. She was heavily sedated and she would never know the difference. _

_Donna had sat outside the room, watching through the slats of the half open blinds. All she remembered, looking back, was how very broken they both looked, like nothing could ever put the pieces back together. _

* * *

><p><em>Bess had been in the psych ward for close to a week—or so she thought—before Melissa showed up in her room. She was the sixth psychiatrist in as many days that had walked through Bess's door. She had refused to speak to them all, but Melissa would have none of it. <em>

_She took in the sight before her, a skinny girl with lank hair and circles under her eyes that were such a deep purple that they looked like bruises. She was wasting herself, and there was nothing that pissed Melissa off more. She had read the girl's chart, and it was clear she had some seriously unresolved grief. _

"_So," she said, in a voice with a slight edge to it, "you're the pain in the ass who won't talk or eat, eh? Of course. I'm new here, so they give me the dumb mute." _

"_Fuck you," was Bess's response, but it was a response nonetheless. _

"_Shit, she speaks," Melissa countered. _

_It went on like that for some time, each of them lobbing insults back and forth, but at least Bess was talking. Eventually, Melissa had her worked into such a rage that Bess tried to take a swing at her. She missed—Melissa was far too fast for that—but it was what she wanted. _

"_You want to beat the shit out of something, don't you?" she asked, and for the first time since she had been there, Bess gave an honest response. _

"_You have no idea how much." _

_Melissa took Bess down to the gym, threw a pair of boxing gloves on the small little creature, gave her enough instruction on how to hit that the bag that she was fairly sure she wouldn't break her hand, and then she told her to hit the bag and keep hitting it until she told her to stop. _

_In reality, Melissa had no intention of telling Bess to stop. It was an hour later before she snapped. Bess had been hitting the bag for an hour, and sobbing for the past thirty or so minutes. She was clearly exhausted, and finally she just fell to the floor, weeping openly, huge sobs shaking her entire small form. Melissa just sat there, letting her cry herself out until the room went silent. _

_Bess finally stood up, wiped her face off and said a small "thanks." _

"_Welcome," Melissa, said in return. _

_They didn't return to Bess's room. It was against hospital policy to take patients outside, but Melissa was all about unorthodox methods, and she was pretty sure that the roof didn't really count. The pair lay up there, basking in the hot July sun, Bess looking alive for the first time in a week. _

"_That guy did a number on you, huh?" Melissa asked, as a way of starting a conversation. _

_That was all it took for the floodgates to open. Bess ranted, going on and on for close to an two hours about all the things Harvey had done, how he had wronged her. Over and over again, she came back to how angry she was at him, how much she hated him. _

"_You're not angry at him, and you don't hate him," Melissa finally said. _

_Bess stared at her blankly for about thirty seconds before finally countering with "Fuck you, Mel. Don't try to tell me what's in my head when—" _

"_Look, Princess," she said, sitting up. "If we're gonna work together, then you need to get used to the fact that this is how I work. I don't deal in bullshit." She paused then, waiting for Bess who nodded slowly and stayed silent. That was always a good sign. "Anger, hate, those are easy emotions, Elisabeth. What you are is hurt, heartbroken eve, but you don't want to look deep enough to figure that out. Too bad. You're gonna have to if you're with me."_

_They spent the next two weeks together, and after Bess was released from the hospital she saw Melissa three times a week for three years. She never went more than a week without talking to her, even ten years later. _

* * *

><p>AN: Review, my minions!_  
><em>


	14. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Huge thanks to my lovely new beta, oneforthehaters. You're a peach. :)

Disclaimer: Blah blah, not mine.

* * *

><p>March 2002<p>

Bess really had no idea what the hell was going on, or for that matter, why she was marching into the District Attorney's office with a suit bag in one hand and a can opener in the other. She felt like a prize idiot, but Harvey had called frantically raving about how he needed a can opener or he couldn't go to trial, so there she was. She was fairly sure he already had an extra suit in his office, but another one couldn't hurt, and having it in hand made her feel just a little less foolish.

With a little bit of help, she found her way to some large, open area lined with office doors and desks filled with several executive assistants hurriedly doing a variety of different things. Bess knew Harvey's assistant was named Donna something or other, and she was a redhead and no nonsense in a way that made Harvey suspicious that she might be from Boston, but he liked her none-the-less. Aside from that, Bess was at a loss. So she stood there, looking completely flustered until her eyes finally fell on a woman she could only assume was Donna.

She was dressed in a pair of checked trousers, an emerald green button down and a grey blazer than even Bess would have killed for. She was gorgeous, Harvey's age, maybe a year or two older, and she exuded confidence in the way Bess had always wished she could. It was clear she was a badass. No wonder Harvey liked her.

Bess took a few gingerly steps forward and spoke.

"Hi, you must be Donna. I'm here for—"

"Oh thank God, you brought the can opener!" Bess nearly jumped back as the fiery red head snatched the utensil from her hand, said a quick, "be right back," then dashed off into Harvey's office, slamming the door as she went.

The poor girl was completely stunned, and simply stood there, not entirely sure what to do. One of the other nearby assistants informed Bess that it was really nothing personal; those two were just weird, apparently. So she stood and waited, feeling no less confused by any means, until Harvey and Donna emerged from the office a few moments later. He took no notice of her—she wasn't exactly in his line of sight—but Bess had quite the view of Donna smacking his ass and saying "May they die of suffocation in the icy cold of space!" before he marched off to lord knows where.

The redhead quickly collected herself then seated herself back at her desk.

"I'm so sorry about that," she said as she deposited the can opener—which apparently now belonged to her—in the upper drawer of her desk. "There would have been hell to pay if you hadn't showed up. Are you Harvey's little sister?"

Bess had attended cotillion from the time she was six until she turned sixteen, and never in ten years of etiquette classes had a situation even remotely like this one been covered. Apparently she would have to wing it.

"No. He doesn't have a sister. And I'm not even going to ask what the can opener was about, but did you just quote Star Trek to him?"

"Live long and prosper," Donna said, holding up her hand in the traditional fashion.

Bess was absolutely positive that Donna was a terribly odd bird, and she couldn't help but like her. She let out a slight laugh and held out her hand.

"I'm Elisabeth."

Donna's face was almost as good as Harvey's but for the briefest moment there was that look, the look people sometimes gave when they realized she was Harvey's girl. That's what one got for dating a guy who looked older than his age when you looked somewhat younger than yours. Done up and dressed right, Bess could easily pass for a legal drinking age, and she did so fairly regularly, but as she was now, with barely a stitch of makeup on, she looked every bit her eighteen years.

"Oh, it's so nice to meet you," she said just a little too fast. "Harvey said you were beautiful."

"You expected me to be older," Bess countered, though not meanly. She had found it was best to defuse these situations as quickly as possible. Donna looked briefly taken aback, something Bess was sure that she rarely ever was, but she went on. "It's really not a problem. People always expect me to be older."

Donna studied her face for a moment then let out the breath she had been holding. "Oh good. Sorry about that. Harvey's been busy all morning and my filter is just about gone and I never got coffee this morning, so my brain just isn't firing at full force. Is that Harvey's suit? I can take it for you."

The whole of what Donna had just said took about five seconds from start to finish. Bess had never met anyone who could talk so fast. No wonder she and Harvey worked well together. Apparently Donna hated wasting time too.

"Sure," Bess replied, handing the bag to Donna. The red head stood and turned as though to leave before she noticed that Bess hadn't moved at all.

"Do you need anything?"

"Well," Bess said, "I don't know how long he's going to be gone, but since I'm down here I was hoping to steal him for lunch. Any chance that can happen?"

Donna made a face that clearly showed that she was thinking, and she dug into a schedule book after laying the suit on a nearby chair.

"He's technically supposed to have a meeting in an hour, but I can move it to later in the day, if you'd like."

Bess was thrilled to hear it, and she thanked Donna before she made a move to leave. Then, a thought came to her, and she turned around.

"Hey, Donna there's this coffee place down the block and I was gonna—"

"You mean Mariella's?" Donna asked excitedly, turning back to look at Bess, who had literally never been cut off this many times in one conversation. She giggled slightly, not being able to help herself.

"Yeah…I was gonna grab a macchiato while I was waiting. Do you want me to bring something back for you?"

The look on Donna's face was that of drowning man who had just been thrown a life raft. She assured Bess she was a queen among women, wrote down her coffee order, tried to insist on paying—though Bess would have none of that—then shoved her out the door.

* * *

><p>Harvey was done in less than an hour. The case had been overwhelmingly simple, so much so that his brain was almost numb, and it had been terribly easy to convince the poor fools to settle. He entered his office through the back door and shrugged off his suit jacket, only to be greeted by a note from Donna on his desk.<p>

_Moved your 11:30 to 6:00. You have a lunch meeting now, instead. _

_D_

While Harvey didn't mind staying later than planned, Donna rarely moved his schedule around without okaying it with him first, unless it was something important. And even then, he usually had some warning of what was going on. This really wasn't to his liking. He grabbed the note, and pulled on his discarded suit jacket as he walked out the door toward Donna's desk.

"Donna, who is so important that I have to kiss their ass now instead of tomorrow?"

It was then that Harvey realized he had completely shoved his foot in his mouth. Sitting opposite his spitfire of an assistant was his spitfire of a girlfriend. He had planned to introduce them at some point, but given the laugh that erupted between them at his expense, he could see they were already fast friends.

He was fairly sure this was a bad thing, for him anyway.

"That would be me, dear," Bess said, raising a hand and waving to him. She had changed during her coffee trip, thrown half her hair up in a chignon and done her makeup. She looked stunning on any given day, but that didn't mean Harvey didn't enjoy the view.

She went back to speaking with Donna for a moment, then added, "Unless you're too busy, because I'm sure Donna would be more than happy to be my lunch date."

The girls continued to sip their coffee while Harvey wandered toward Bess and reached a hand out to her. She gave him a look of consideration—though altogether playful—then took his outstretched hand, stood and said, "Oh, so you _are_ going to take me to lunch?"

He couldn't help but laugh. It was just like Bess to show up in the middle of the day from hell, sass him back to happiness, and then drag him off to make sure he ate.

"Of course," he replied. He helped Bess into her coat, said a quick thanks to Donna—who assured him there would be hell to pay if he wasn't back in an hour—then slung and arm over Bess's shoulder and steered her toward the nearest exit.

"Bye, Elisabeth," Donna called after her. "Eight o'clock, right?"

"See you then," Bess threw back over her shoulder.

It took Harvey a moment to register, but he quickly caught on and asked, "What was that about?"

"Oh that?" Bess said playful as he opened the door to her car for her. She told the driver where to go, then snuggled up to Harvey in the back seat. "Nothing. Donna's just coming over for dinner tonight."

He looked at her for a moment, considered his next move then said, "You two are just going to run my life, aren't you?"

At this, Bess smiled, cupped his cheek in her hand, kissed him ever so lightly and replied with a sugary sweet, "Yes, dear."

* * *

><p>Up next: Bess, Harvey and Donna having dinner, or the fab foursome of Bess, Mike, Donna and Harvey at a firm gala. May or may not involve Bess and Mike getting drunk and behaving badly. Should be quite funny, no matter which one.<p>

SO...review and let me know which you would like to see first! :)


	15. Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Hey internet! Well, sorry it's been a while, but this chapter is pretty long, so hopefully it'll make up for the wait!

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah...not mine.

* * *

><p>Bess had been back in New York for a grand total of three days before Harvey asked her randomly one evening if she was free to be his plus one for the annual Pearson Hardman client gala. It was terribly stuffy, he was expected to bring someone, and he was fairly sure Jessica would consider murdering him—even with how impressive his billables had been as of late—if that someone wasn't her. She'd always liked Bess.<p>

They'd been lounging on Bess's couch, him making notes on some brief he'd brought by with him that evening, her reading a biography of Tchaikovsky she had somehow missed in grad school. They both knew full well that she had literally nothing scheduled—save lots of sleep—for the next few weeks at least, so she was more than happy to go.

Then, in true male form, he proceeded to tell her it was the next day; thus, how Bess Covington found herself at Harvey's condo later the next day with a dress she literally needed help to put on, a necklace she couldn't latch herself, and two pairs of shoes.

"Why do you have two pairs of shoes with you?" Harvey asked as she unceremoniously dropped her possessions on his bed. He was already dressed by the time she got there, wearing his standard black tux. Bess thought he looked completely dishy, to say the least.

"Because," she said, taking off the dress she was presently wearing, "one of them is a pair of heels, and if this thing lasts as long as I remember all your lawyerly, kiss ass functions lasting, my feet are going to get tired. So the other is a pair of flats for when that happens. Now, help me get into my dress. It's a bit ridiculous."

By the time she had finished her rant, Bess was down to what she intended to wear under the dress, which meant that she was standing there in the middle of Harvey's bedroom in a corset, complete with garters and stockings and four inch heels.

He looked her up and down then said, "We're gonna be late to the party," then moved toward her with a predatory look, only to have Bess back away. She laughed, deep and throaty.

"Not so fast, you," she teased. "Jessica asked me personally to be sure that you arrived on time, and that's what we're going to do, so whatever you have in mind, forget it. Help me into my dress."

Harvey threw her an exasperated look. "Then was this," he said, gesturing to all of her, "_really _necessary?"

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "The dress was built to be worn with a corset. I had no choice."

"But you picked it because you knew this would happen and you like to do this to me," he replied, pointing at her.

"Guilty," she said with a sugar sweet smile. "But seriously, I can't zip the dress by myself. Help me out?"

He groaned, reached for a glass of scotch he had sitting by the bed, then sipped from it, looking her over as he did. They both knew exactly what he was doing. It was that look that made her knees go weak and things tighten low in her body. He walked up to her, took her by the waist with his free hand, pulled her close and whispered, "If I get to throw that dress and everything else you're wearing on the floor the minute we get back here, you have a deal."

"Well," she choked out, "all right then."

* * *

><p>Harvey was helping Bess out of her coat when Jessica Pearson strode straight up to her and pulled her into a warm hug.<p>

"Elisabeth Covington, it has been too long," she said, pulling away. She gave Bess an appraising look. She was wearing a floor length cobalt blue chiffon and silk dress. The bodice was strapless and fitted, whereas the skirt was a mass of ruffles, large but not to the point where it was obnoxious. On her neck, she wore an elegant necklace of diamonds and white gold made to look like orchid flowers. Her hair was parted at the side, brushed until it glistened and worn tucked behind her ears, falling almost to her waist, the perfect simple balance to her otherwise intricate look. She was stunning.

"My God, Elisabeth, you grew up," Jessica said, laughing slightly.

"Ten years will do that to you," she replied as she placed a kiss on the elegant woman's cheek. "So, Jessica," Bess said with a knowing smile, "what can I do for you?"

Jessica smiled at the girl and shrugged. "Word got out that you were going to be here, and it would really help the firm if—"

"I'll sing, but only if it's short and only if you'll play for me," Bess replied, smiling and nodding. She turned to Harvey and said, "There's a black binder with my music in it in the large red bag I left at the coat check. Would you mind getting it for me?"

Harvey did just as she asked, returning seconds later. Bess settled on a song by Joseph Marx, an obscure Austrian composer. It was short, and few people would understand the German text, but she knew that it would be more than enough for the people who wanted to see her sing to say that they had been in the room with her, mere feet away when she performed for them.

Jessica was quite the accomplished pianist, and the performance was nothing short of lovely, so much so that someone—Louis—called for an encore, though no one in the room could blame him. Bess was enchanting on any given day, but with those few notes, just about every man in the room had fallen madly in love with her.

When she had finished, Bess was accosted by half the room, or so it seemed, and Harvey amused himself by standing near Donna, sipping a glass of scotch, and watching Bess receive everyone who felt compelled to tell her how wonderful she was. She was completely practiced in how to be charming, but Harvey could tell that this was quite sincere.

All this was fine and good until Louis showed up. Harvey watched as he took Bess's hand, introduced himself and laid a kiss on it. While everyone else in the room would have been none the wiser, Harvey had known Bess for ages, and he knew the subtle signs that she was freaked out. Her shoulders tensed ever so slightly, as did her jaw, and her smile became overly large, and he saw the whole thing happening just then. Swiftly, he handed his glass of scotch to Donna, grabbed two champagne flutes from a table nearby and made his way to Bess.

Louis was in the middle of a rant about some recent production at the Met when Harvey reached them.

"You see, Elisabeth, I thought that the mezzo-soprano's ornamentation in the _cabaletta_ lacked a certain _bel canto_ sensibility, and—"

Louis's words stopped mid-sentence as Harvey walked up to Bess and held a champagne flute out to her, which she gladly took. They locked eyes, each of them smirking ever so slightly.

"To you," he said, just before they clinked glasses, never letting their eyes leave one another. Bess sipped from her glass and smiled, blushing ever so slightly.

"Thank you," she finally replied. There was a moment between them that was plainly obvious.

"Harvey," Louis interrupted, "I'd like to introduce you to Elisabeth Covington. She's one of the newest singers on the Met's roster."

Bess and Harvey smirked at each other and she titled her head slightly. It seemed to say _Oh, what the hell. Go along with it. _

"Pleasure," he responded, taking her hand in his. The look that passed between them was one that plainly said everything they were thinking of doing to one another.

Louis was practically green with envy at the sight.

"Elisabeth," Harvey continued, and she noted how strange it was to hear her given name coming out of his mouth after all this time, "would you like to dance?"

Louis's face turned a particularly special shade of red, and he was moments from interjecting before Bess said: "On two conditions. Guess what I want to dance to and convince Jessica to play it."

"Brahms waltz in A-flat major, opus thirty nine, number fifteen," he replied without missing a beat.

Bess smiled again, played coy for a moment, then nodded, and set her champagne flute on a nearby table before turning and walking to the dance floor. Harvey moved to do the same, but not before Louis caught the edge of his lapel.

"How the hell did you know that?" he demanded to know.

"Well, Louis," Harvey replied, "forgive me, but it's pretty easy to guess when that was what we were listening to in bed last night."

Louis's face went white for a moment, and he glared at Harvey before responding, "I still don't have a wife Harvey."

He laughed then and shrugged, making Louis let go of him. "I wasn't implying anything about your wife Louis, though for the record, she should have much more free time these days." He straightened his coat, adjusted his tie ever so slightly, then went on. "Bess and I were listening to the entire set last night—in bed. This one is her favorite. Don't even try Louis. Even without me around, you're not her type. You'd never have a chance."

* * *

><p>Harvey had done just as Bess had asked, and Jessica had in fact played several Brahms waltzes just for them. The whole room was a buzz as to how Harvey and Bess knew each other, since it was quite obvious that they did. For his part, Harvey would have preferred to spend the entire night in her company. She had such a warm and welcoming air about her, and he would be lying if he claimed that it hadn't just helped him sign three new clients. He was a difficult man to approach all on his own, but everyone wanted to be around Bess. It was a rather winning combination.<p>

Unfortunately, it wasn't what he was being paid for. Jessica had come to steal him from Bess not long before, and Harvey had entrusted her care to Mike. He had threatened the poor kid within an inch of his life if he let Louis within fifty feet of Bess, which was how the pair now found themselves at the bar inside the hotel that was hosting the gala. The bar was entirely empty except for them, and the conversation, up till then, had been nothing but friendly. After a while, the bartender—and young kid who clearly had no desire to be there—told them to just help themselves, closed up shop, and left.

Mike was behind the bar, mixing Bess another dry martini when he finally got up the nerve to ask. "So, I feel like a prick for asking, but how do you know Harvey?" He slid her a new martini, then rested his arms on the bar since they were both somewhat tipsy by then.

"He was my brother Aidan's best friend when they were growing up. They played baseball together. Aidan played catcher, so they were friends by default. They were twelve when Aidan brought him home one day, and I was five. So we pretty much grew up together. He was almost always around."

"Why did you say was?"

"My brother's dead."

"Quick?"

"Cancer. When they were twenty-three."

"Parents?"

"Dead a year later in a car crash."

"Mine too," he responded, holding out his glass. "Here's to us, little orphan Annie."

Bess laughed slightly at his joke, glad she had someone to relate to. She and Mike had been at it for a solid three hours and had covered all manner of conversation. They were both expert card counters, amongst other things, and had agreed that gourmet jello shots were a waste of times, because the only reason to take jello shots was to get fucked up. They had debated whether _King Lear_ or _Hamlet_ was Shakespeare's greatest play, and after Mike discovered that Bess had studied piano for fifteen years, they played a rather fantastic four handed version of chopsticks on the piano in the bar.

"Alright, Elisabeth," he finally said, as they both sipped their martinis, "how the hell did you end up being the girl Harvey Specter just couldn't get over?"

Bess laughed and nearly spat out her drink. "Is that what you're calling me now?" she asked when she finally recovered. Mike nodded, then walked around the side of the bar, somewhat woozily, and sat beside her.

"Well, to be honest, I was pretty damn convinced that Harvey was a Vulcan before you showed up, so throw me a bone. It's weird seeing him like this."

"Instead of shacked up with some six foot, blonde bimbo model?"

"I will neither confirm nor deny –"

"Relax, friend, I read page six. You wouldn't be breaking some sacred bro oath. I know what he was up to when I was out of the picture. I had my fun too, for the record."

"Oh yeah?" he said, turning toward her and raising his eyebrows. Bess giggled though, and she brushed him off.

"Another time, kid." Then she did that thing she did when she was ever so slightly nervous or nostalgic and stared off, her eyes going somewhere far away. In this case, it was the latter. "Well, Harvey fell in love with me—as far as I know—when I was sixteen. I think Aidan had always kinda planned for it to happen. He would have loved for Harvey to be his brother in the legal sense of the word. He was a conniving son of a bitch." She paused then and drank her martini down, then grabbed the nearby bottle of tequila and poured a shot while she talked.

"As for me, it was a couple of things." Her eyes got a distant look in them, as though she was looking far away. She shoved a shot to Mike, who gladly took it from her, and they downed them before she poured another.

"Aidan came out to Harvey when they were eighteen. He came out to me first, but he was terrified to tell our parents, and even more so to tell Harvey. He came off as super straight, so no one would have seen it coming."

She laughed slightly before continuing. "And when Aidan finally told him, he shrugged and said 'And?' like it didn't even matter, which was exactly what Aidan wanted to hear. And when Aidan started dating in college and he had his first real boyfriend, Harvey took the guy out for drinks and threatened him within an inch of his life if he ever hurt him. It was brilliant."

Something stirred in the periphery of Mike's vision then, and he glanced off to the side where he noticed Harvey looking at Bess. He motioned for Mike to be quiet, and leaned against the door frame, listening.

"But really, it was this game they played a few weeks later. It was their senior year, and the team was one game away from the state championship, and Harvey had been having shoulder problems for a while, but his coach played him anyway." She kicked back another shot, then set it down, a dreamy look adorning her face. "And it was like watching a dance. He and Aidan knew each other better than anyone else earth, including me. He had pitched so well, but it wasn't even three innings into the game before you could tell that Harvey's shoulder was giving him trouble. But Aidan called time and walked up to the mound and smacked his ass and said something-I don't know what it was-but it got his head back in the game."

Mike looked off to the side and tried to make eye contact with Harvey, but he couldn't; his eyes were only looking at Bess. It was pretty plain he had never heard this story before.

"I was eleven, and I remember the whole thing in bright, crayola crayon, technicolor detail. I looked over at this set of rowdy ass fans from the other team. They were sitting next to us, and I just said 'watch this.'" She took another shot then, shook her head slightly, then continued.

"And he threw a perfect game. Twenty-seven up, twenty-seven down. The only one in the school's history. And when it ended, there was this moment when no one made a sound, and then the whole stadium just erupted. And Aidan ran out to the mound and jumped into Harvey's arms and tackled him to the ground. And then outta nowhere, Harvey jumped up, ran over to me, threw me up on his shoulders, and dragged me on to the field to celebrate with the team." She threw back another shot before going on.

"I remember asking him why he did, later on once we were back at my house. He and Aidan and I were laying on the couches on the balcony, and they were drinking a few beers. And he just told me that I deserved to be a part of it, that I had been the biggest fan all season and always cheered louder than anyone and that counted for a lot." She paused and smiled, then looked Mike right in the eye. "He gave me the game ball, too. He and Aidan. They both signed it. I still have it, too. "

"So, Mike Ross, the lesson here is that while Harvey often appears to be way more Spock than Kirk, he really is a good person, and he cares way more than he'll ever let you see." She smiled then, shook her head again, and finally noticed the man standing in the doorway.

There was a look that passed between them, and Mike almost felt like he was intruding for seeing it. "So, that's how I fell in love," she said, though Mike was sure that sentence was not aimed at him.

Harvey walked slowly toward them, taking notice that they were both pretty well drunk. He nodded to Mike, which the kid took as a silent thank you, and then he informed Mike he had called a car for him and that it was waiting downstairs, along with a certain paralegal. Mike smiled and nodded, then kissed Bess's cheek and went to leave, but not before the pair could agree that they were going to the Yankees game together the next day. Harvey wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Bess and Mike getting drunk on cheap beer and watching the Yankees play the Red Sox together. It seemed like something that could only end with him having to bail them out of jail, but it had always been hard for Bess to make friends, so he was happy to see her hanging out with someone close to her own age. Besides, Harvey would be lying if he didn't say that half the reason he had hired Mike was because he had reminded him of Aidan.

Mike had scarcely left them alone before Bess smiled up at Harvey, stood and said, "Take me home," a phrase Harvey could never disagree with.

* * *

><p>So, next up we'll have some more fun with Harvey and Bess, and more fun with Bess and Mike. Basically, I've decided those two should be friends. It could only lead to shenanigans. ;)<p> 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Hey friends! So, it's been a while since I've been here. So sorry to keep you waiting, but hopefully this chapter will be worth it. And rest assured, there is another one in the works that should be up within a week at most. R/R!

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. Not mine.

* * *

><p>In the six weeks since the annual Pearson Hardman gala, Bess had performed a concert series in Japan, sang a stunning run of <em>Rigoletto<em> at the Lyric Opera in Chicago, and seen three Yankees games with Mike. The pair had become all but inseparable, so much so that he now had a drawer at Harvey's condo, something Bess had insisted upon given how many late nights the two comrades spent playing Mario Kart while they waited for Harvey to come home from schmoozing clients. Mike had become a constant fixture in the strange family Harvey and Bess had knitted together, and much as he thought he would mind, he was shocked to find that he enjoyed the young man's presence more and more.

It was likely due to Bess. She had always had trouble making friends. She was a naturally caring soul, the kind who always did her best to help, sometimes doing a little too much, but he had never minded. And she often came off like Julia Child, all the Disney Princess rolled into one, and Betty Draper (before she was crazy), which sometimes other rubbed women the wrong way. Call it insecurity, but there you have it.

The one constant in her life had always been men. Between Aidan, Harvey, and their entire baseball team, she had never wanted for playmates. It was a natural fit for her to be close to Mike. He was so like Aidan in so many ways.

And this was how Harvey came home at eleven at night on a Tuesday to find Bess and Mike dancing around the kitchen to The Wombats in between eating what appeared to be honey crisp apples dipped in caramel and chocolate. They were one of his sweet girl's vices.

Goodness, they were a sight. Bess was in a pair of leggings—which really were pants, in her opinion—with her hair in braids and a ratty old baseball jersey of Aidan's on. Mike was in slacks and an undershirt. Both of them had bare feet and were essentially swing dancing. Harvey had come through the back door, rather than the overly ostentatious glass elevator—which Bess hated—so the pair had yet to see him. He simply stood and watched as they bantered and played, teasing each other mercilessly. It took them ten minutes to notice he was there.

They had all eaten dinner together in peace, and Bess had gone off to bed shortly thereafter, leaving the men to drink beer and talk sports, or so she said.

Mike and Harvey had talked for a while, and it was obvious that Mike was as much in love with Bess as Harvey was, in his own way. Those two were kindred spirits, sharing the sort of bond only orphans could. Harvey could hardly begrudge them that. After some discussion of the Yankees bullpen and the joke that was the Mets roster that season, Mike left to go home, promising he would see Harvey at the office bright and early on Monday.

Harvey had crept silently to bed, stripping off his excess clothing as he went before finally crawling into bed and spooning himself against a lightly sleeping Bess.

"Mmm…" she moaned lightly, twisting and snuggling herself further against the warm man behind her. He, in turn, took to lightly kissing her neck, only becoming more persistent as minutes passed. Finally, realizing that Harvey simply wasn't in the mood to let her sleep, Bess rolled over to face him, then buried her face in his chest, breathing in the smell of him. One thing led to another-the way it always did with those two-their limbs tangling together, hands tugging away unwanted clothing, pulling one another close in the best of ways.

Somewhere in the middle of the afterglow, Bess found the strength to climb out of bed to make herself some tea. It was late, almost three in the morning, but her assistant was usually up—Bess was sure the girl never slept—so she set down her tea and grabbed her iPhone when she crawled back into bed. For his part, Harvey was a cuddler, and he loved to be close to Bess. He pulled himself close to her, and then rested his head in her lap where her fingers toyed absently with his hair.

"Who on earth are you emailing at this hour?" he mumbled as his fingers danced along the inside of her thigh.

"Molly," was her response. "I need her to make an appointment at the bank for the morning."

Harvey was too content to really be bothered, but Bess's finances were usually handled by the firm, so he did have to ask, "What for? I thought we already had the closing on the property in the Seychelles handled."

Bess giggled slightly and ruffled his hair. "No, that's all fine," she assured him as she kept typing. Harvey waited a moment, sure she would go on, but she was silent.

That was the thing: silence was not something Bess did well. She was the sort who took forty words to say what anyone else did in ten. She had attended cotillion and was practiced in the art of conversation. It was something she took rather seriously. So the fact that she was giving short answers, even on something relatively benign worried Harvey. It was small, but it caused a weird tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach that he didn't like.

He stayed silent then nudged her ever so slightly, which did the trick.

She laughed a little again, and then finally answered him. "Lord, you get so possessive sometimes!" Her tone was teasing, but deflective. "I'm just grabbing a necklace from my safety deposit box for tomorrow night."

Harvey stopped and mulled it over for a bit. He knew Bess kept all the truly expensive jewelry she owned in a safety deposit box. She did too much traveling to leave her really valuable jewels in the apartment. But she rarely trotted out the "big guns," so to speak, unless she had a performance or someone important to impress.

"Who are you meeting with?" he asked, trying his very best to sound nonchalant.

"Old friend," she responded as she hit send and set her phone on the bedside table. Both her hands went to toying with Harvey's hair until he sat up rather swiftly, propping himself up one elbow.

The pair locked eyes, looking each other over for a very weighted few seconds before Harvey finally asked the question Bess knew was coming.

"Who is he?"

Bess sighed, then ran a hand through her hair and pulled on her sweater that was lying nearby.

"Look Harvey, he's a colleague. We've sung together plenty of times. He's a good friend and he's in town giving a concert at Carnegie Hall and he wanted to grab dinner and catch up. I know how possessive you can be, so I figured it would be best not to mention it."

"What's his name, Bess?"

"Ethan. Ethan Samsel, the tenor."

Bess sat there and watched Harvey's face as he struggled to remember why that name seemed familiar, and with a feeling of resignation that a huge fight was on its way, she saw she realization dawn on his face.

The fact of the matter was that Bess was something of New York City royalty and always had been, so when she came of age, her romantic exploits became fodder for Page Six and the New York Post almost instantly. Jessica did a wonderful job of keeping anything compromising out of the papers, but if it was simple photos and rumors, Bess didn't mind. That had been the case with the stories about her and Ethan. They had been quite the topic of discussion in local media until two or so years ago when they stopped appearing together constantly. Page Six had long maintained that they had a very under-the-radar romantic relationship, something neither of their reps had ever disputed.

Harvey hated to admit it, but he had kept up with Bess and all the Page Six rumors—he could hardly be blamed as they were usually true—through Donna. So, when the realization of who exactly Ethan was hit him, it was along with the memory of a story from about three years ago about how the famous British tenor had made a stop at Cartier to pick up a lovely white gold and diamond necklace made to look like orchid flowers. Page Six assumed it could only be intended for one lovely young lady.

"He bought you the orchid necklace." It was a statement, rather than a question, and Bess nodded in response. Harvey sat up and ran a hand through his hair, pulled on a pair of boxers, and sat off to the other side of the bed, faced away from Bess.

"Jessica never disputed the Page Six reports because they were right." Again Bess nodded.

"Which means that she was promising them something to keep them from hounding you too hard." A nod again.

"What was it?" he finally asked, though he knew he would regret it.

When Bess finally answered, her voice was tight and small, her words clipped and short.

"The necklace was an engagement gift. Jessica promised them the pictures from the wedding if they would leave us alone until then."

Harvey took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, then stood and looked at Bess.

"I'm gonna grab a glass of scotch, then you're going to tell me everything."

Bess nodded like a small child then settled back against the bed as she watched Harvey leave, dreading his return.

* * *

><p>AN: AHHHHH! So much drama! Sorry, friends, but it was time for Bess and Harvey to face reality and stop being such little kids. They need to figure out their relationship if it is ever going to work out. That's where we're headed next, so stay tuned!<p> 


	17. Chapter Sixteen

In the six weeks following what had come to be known as "the rock climbing incident," Bess had pretty much turned her life around. She was having three voice lessons a week and had found a pianist she could actually work with, a beautiful boy about Aidan's age with long white fingers and hair that trailed over his eyes. Bess didn't know his story, but they got each other, and that was more than enough.

Her life had become a self-help intensive camp of sorts: up every morning at 5am, run to the yoga studio, hour and a half long hot yoga class, run home, breakfast, shower, practice, lesson, lunch, therapy, practice some more, maybe another run. Her journal was overflowing with meaningful quotes, beautiful pictures, and long, flowing entries that chronicled her life as she attempted to pull herself back from the edge. Lucky as she was, her bookish girlfriends from high school had all welcomed her back with open arms, and her evenings were now filled with reading circles, trips to Russian tea rooms—not the kinds that served vodka—plays, marathons of bad 90's television, and good food. She was eating again, thank goodness, and while she occasionally enjoyed a glass of good red wine, she never drank hard liquor and certainly not before 5pm. Generally speaking, she had her life all figured out.

Except for him.

And that was how Bess Covington found herself standing in front of a door on the third floor of a walkup in Cambridge on a Friday afternoon in Harvey's ratty Harvard sweatshirt and a pair of her favorite jeans.

One minor detail of her life in the six weeks following the rock climbing incident was that she and Harvey had been in rather constant contact. Between texts and emails, late night phone calls and honest to God letters sent in the mail, he was never far from her mind. And for his part, Bess rarely left his consciousness either.

In the six weeks following what had come to be known as "the rock climbing incident," the women of Cambridge had all but gone into mourning. The cause? Harvey Specter had decided not to sleep around anymore. He had been getting by on talent for a long time, but he came back from the city and decided to hit the books. The library was too much of a hazard with Scotty lurking around in the stacks, so he spent most nights at home, reading old case files and law journals, writing papers and making study guides, preparing for the bar exam. He was doing just that when, on a cold fall afternoon, a gentle knock came at his door.

But when he opened the door to find none other than Miss Elisabeth Covington standing there in a sweatshirt two sizes too big and holding a bag that could only mean that she meant to stay, he decided the books could wait.

* * *

><p>True to form, Harvey responded to Bess's unexpected presence by throwing her in a hot shower—"I'm not having you come to visit me up her in the arctic and then die from pneumonia"—brewing a big pot of orange tea, and snuggling with her on his bed. They buried themselves beneath a mound of blankets and watched the snow fall outside the bay window, her head resting gently on Harvey's chest. Her contended moans and sighs were the only noise that penetrated the serenity of the evening, and he stroked her hair and mused over how much comfort he found in the sound of her breathing.<p>

"I'm in love with you," he finally said rather matter-of-factly. Bess went very still in his arms in response, and while Harvey knew that this was exactly what she had come to Cambridge to hear, he also knew that Bess had still wading her way through some serious self-esteem issues.

"There hasn't been anyone else since I left New York. I don't know what this is, but I love you, and I want to honor that. It's just us." He kept silently stroking her hair, offering what comfort and protection he could as she turned things over in her mind.

"Will I be enough for you?" she finally managed to ask, and while his compulsion was to laugh—because how she could ever feel a need to ask that question was beyond him—he managed to stifle his laughter and instead flipped her over so she was lying on her back, him hovering over her as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"More than enough," he sighed as he looked directly into her perfect, incandescent eyes. "I love you," he said, as though it was the simplest truth there had ever been.

Bess bit her lip ever so slightly, something she had a habit of doing when she was trying to find words.

"Show me," she finally said, her eyes locking on his.

And in that moment, Harvey realized what a difference love made. He had fun with his Cambridge harem, loads, in fact. (Bending Scotty over the table in their study room in the library basement several months ago had been physically euphoric.) But here he was with a girl who had gained 25 pounds since he'd last seen her—she needed it—who had damp hair and was wearing no makeup, and was wearing a sweatshirt, leggings and two pairs of socks, and he wouldn't trade her for Scotty, her roommate, and all the black lace and silk ropes in the world. He didn't need any of that with her, because what he said was true; she was more than enough.

He studied her face for a moment, marveling at how a girl who had bemoaned how ruined she was only six weeks ago could look so innocent and pure lying in his bed. And she trusted him, something that he knew couldn't be easy.

When he finally kissed her, it was gentle, and Bess would often remember it as something out of a fairy tale, like the oh-so chaste kiss Prince Charming bestowed upon Snow White.

She would be lying if she'd said she hadn't thought about this from time to time; in a hot shower after a long day while the heated streams ran over her shoulders, or under the covers at night when her skin was too warm for sleep and the only thing that would quiet her mind was her hand between her legs. It was always Harvey she thought about then. Harvey and black lace and ropes and teeth and bruises and waking up with an ache between her legs. Of course, being her perceptive self, Bess had guessed right, and they would get there sooner rather than later; but that wasn't what she needed tonight. Harvey knew better.

And so he was gentle, because from what little information he had gleaned from Bess, she may not have been a virgin, but she certainly had no idea about sex. She had been used, and willingly so, and she had no idea what she deserved.

Their clothes gradually feel away between feverish, languid kisses and the sweet reassurances he whispered into her hair, until they were laying bare before each other. Bess realized that the sensation in her stomach, that pit, that was vulnerability, something she never let herself feel, something she had purposely turned off, something she couldn't turn off with Harvey no matter how hard she tried.

And so she lay there, trembling and flushed beneath him as he caressed her flushed skin, kissing his way across her ribs and up her thighs before finally laying a kiss at her most intimate part.

She shuddered, a sharp intake of breath rushing into her lungs, and her head fell back, eyes closing in something between a prayer and a beg for mercy. Bess lay there beneath him, shuddering and writhing and coming apart or falling together; she wasn't quite sure, and finally her skin felt too tight, as though it wouldn't hold her body anymore, and she fell apart in one perfect warm release of all the tension in her small frame.

Harvey lay between her legs while she caught her breath, smiling like the cat that caught the canary between the kisses he dotted along her thighs. Finally, she came back to earth, her eyes fluttering open to look at him with pure adoration and love. She reached one of her hands languidly to him, and he took it without hesitating, positioning himself over her and gently spreading her legs with his knee.

When she looked back on that night, she sometimes thought they stayed like that for a half hour, gazing into each other's eyes, taking in one another's souls between shallow breaths. Finally, after what could have been hours or days, under the cover of a kiss, Harvey slipped inside of her in the best of ways, fusing their flesh in a searing embrace.

And for the first time for Bess, it wasn't rough. It wasn't hurried. It wasn't one sided. It wasn't a slap across the face and bent over a bed and not a care as to whether she felt any pleasure or not. It wasn't harsh florescent lights in the back of a warehouse at a party thrown by God knows who and screaming his name at the top of her lungs and mascara and sweat streaming down her face. It wasn't a way to feeling nothing, to emptiness.

It was love. It was tender brushes of finger tips and names reverently whispered against the pulse in their necks until it bled its way into their very souls. It was the way her hips moved against his without so much as a conscious thought; it was magnetic. It was the way he kissed her neck while she came apart around him, moaning and sighing and clutching at sheets, trying to find anything solid to tether her to the earth. And it was the way she held him, as he shuddered and gasped for air, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead until he finally went still inside of her.

They staid like that for what must have been hours, Harvey's head cradled on Bess's chest, his ears finely tuned to the sound of her heart beat as it slowed to a normal pace. Eventually, they curled up together, wrapped in one another's arms like lost children, keeping each other warm and safe.

Bess murmured something softly against the warm skin of Harvey's chest, and though he couldn't entirely make out the words, he didn't need to. He just knew.

_I love you too,_ she said.


End file.
